The Violin
by DarkTragicAngel
Summary: AU/WW2. After living hiden for 3 and half years with his family, Kyle is taken to a concentration camp. Guess who's the most sadistic SS there? What starts as a cruel game between Nazi and Jew, will evolve into something unprecedent. Kyman. Warning: Coarse language, violent imaginary of war and sex. Rewritten version of "Unexpected" (if you were currently reading it, please PM me)
1. The deportation

**PLEASE READ THIS FIRST BEFORE READING THE STORY**

_This is the rewritten version of my original story "Unexpected", which was published in 2009. It's one my favorite stories I've ever written and recently I started rereading it. I stumble myself for realizing that I'm my own greatest critic. Although I love the story plotline, I was frightened by the vocabulary poverty, mistakes in grammar and phrases construction (English is my second language and I like to think it's continually in development), terrifying short chapters, historical flaws, but above all, it was the lack of psychological depth in the charactersthat scared me the most. So, rewrite, I did._

_The story's plot, its essence,remains the same. All I did was, bring more quality to the writing, merge chapters so they are longer and more pleasant to read and give more psychological depth to the characters. I did change details in the story, added some new chapters, to justify better the plot of the storyline, but the essence remains the same. I also followed the advice and wise pinpointing of reviewers about some historical facts I lacked when I first wrote the story. Finally, I changed the title for obvious reasons (you'll figure out while reading it)._

_If you already read "Unexpected" and decided to read its newest version, I hope you will agree with its changes, which I believe are improvements. _

_If you are reading this for the first time, enjoy._

_In both cases, please, review and let me know what you think. You can also PM me for language/grammar matters, historical inconstancies in the story, suggestions, whatever. As long as it is constructive criticism, aiming for the further improvement of this story._

_South Park has, of course, hinted countless times the Second World War with Cartman's anti-Semitism and obsession for Hitler; and with Kyle being the Jew in the sitcom, the hate/obsession's object from our little fat friend. Any Kyman fan would be seduced in fantasizing these two characters during this historical period. _

_And that's how this story was born._

_Kyle and Cartman are 17 years old in the beginning of this story._

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**_Warning:_**_ AU –Second World War_

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

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**This chapter was BETA rectified by Crude and Unusual.**

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**PART ONE – SECOND WORLD WAR – GERMANY – OCTOBER - 1942**

The day finally came.

The day they had feared for so long.

The Broflovskis were led down the stairs by screaming uniformed men, impatiently pushing them with weapons, ordering them to walk faster. They received less than five minutes to pack their belongings, and while they did it, it was under the constant pressure of shouting soldiers. Kyle had quickly grabbed his violin, the object he cherished the most, while his little brother desperately put some of his favorite toys in his trunk.

They exited the building, and for the first time in many years, breathed fresh air. While the family was guided by the aggressive soldiers, they were greeted by many unfamiliar faces watching them curiously. As they walked to the military truck, Kyle read all kind of looks on the faces of those who had agglomerated in the streets to watch another Jewish family be deported. Looks of fear, looks of anger and disgust, looks of pity and compassion, looks of triumph and arrogance. The young Jew was shocked by how the world and its people had changed so drastically in less than ten years.

His eyes finally found the Marsh family. They stood on their door step, holding each other close, hand in hand, looks of agony and impotence imprinted on their faces. All these years they had helped the Broflovskis. They kept their hiding place secret, brought food and clothes, and made it possible for the four people to live in the small cramped attic above an old shop.

It pained Kyle to watch his best friend's eyes water, while his remained dry. How he wished to call out for his friend, tell him he would be okay, and that everything would be all right. Even if he didn't believe it. But he knew he had to stay silent, and quickly broke eye contact with Stan. The consequences of such actions would be grave.

Kyle was pushed inside the truck. The doors were shut right in front of his face. All source of light disappeared, and the space became darker than night itself. They travelled for what felt like ages and finally arrived at a train station. They were ordered to step outside and join the large mass of people with the yellow Star of David on their coats. It was freezing outside, but the mix of fear and anticipation seemed to drive the cold away. The Broflovskis followed the orders of the angry officers that distributed the Jews throughout the different train wagons. While they walked, Kyle could hear his mother talk softly to Ike, pressing his little body against hers. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder and looked at him. Gerald's gaze was fixed on the screaming officer closest to them, expression one of alarm and concern, making him appear older. The man sensed his oldest son's stare, and met his eyes. His tense appearance softened a bit, while he looked at Kyle sadly, full of love and regret. It was the look of a parent who knows his child's future is condemned.

The mob of Jews was forcibly pushed into the train's compartment. The great sliding door was shut. There were no windows, so they were again covered in darkness. The train started moving and Kyle could not tell if the space was small, or simply packed up with too many people. Bodies were pressed against each other. The cold air was quickly replaced by an unbearably heavy, and sticky heat. The oxygen grew thinner. People were screaming. People were fainting. People were dying.

Kyle closed his eyes. His ears ached from all the screaming. He tried to focus in his mother's soft voice singing a lullaby in his brother's ear. He tried to focus in on the firm grasp of his father's hands round his chest, making him feel safe and protected. In the midst of his fear, Kyle's thoughts ran back to the Marshes. He wondered how they were; he wondered how Stan was feeling. He wondered if they would ever see each other again. It was so hot. The air was heavy, and a nauseating stench filled the compartment. The screams were fading, people were starting to silence. He felt tired, his muscles were weary and aching from standing in the same position for many hours. The exhaustion slowly took over his mind and body. Unwillingly, he fell into a light doze. Kyle completely lost track of time. They traveled toward an unknown destination. Not knowing what awaited them there. Only knowing they were heading to doom.

…

Kyle suddenly opened his eyes.

The train stopped moving. The disgusting scent of sweat, vomit and urine invaded his nostrils. At the beginning of the journey people had been screaming in fear, but now it was the dread of anticipation that kept them quiet. Unbearable silence rang through the train's compartment. It was the calm before the storm. Kyle could just barely discern men's voices, but couldn't figure out what they were saying. Someone in the compartment murmured, "What's going on." Soft cries were heard in the distance. The silence grew between the passengers as the tension increased.

Suddenly the sliding door was opened. The mass of Jews peered blinkingly into the harsh light of day. Soldiers started grabbing the startled people by the arms, forcing them to exit the compartment quickly, making many fall down onto the dirty ground. Kyle felt the bitter cold hit his body like a wall of ice, and thought he was going to faint. But his indisposition faded quickly as adrenaline pumped into his veins. His eyes searched for his family, but instead, they met a big blur of chaos.

People were being violently dragged out of the train. Soldiers were yelling hysterically, hitting and pushing people out of the way. Jews were screaming in agony and panic as their suitcases were ripped from their hands. A soldier came out from nowhere, and pushed Kyle hard to the side, making him lose his balance and fall on the ground. Kyle watched in horror as the same soldier took his trunk and violin away, and threw them on a pile of suitcases. Kyle got up quickly to retrieve his violin, but another soldier intercepted him. He was grabbed by his arm and violently dragged towards a mass of men. Feeling completely disoriented, Kyle quickly looked around and felt panic grow in his chest. He had lost his family. Suddenly, in the midst of the confusion, he recognized his mother's screaming above all other voices. He followed her desperate yells, ignoring the shoves and collisions with other Jews. Kyle suppressed his own scream when he saw a soldier forcibly attempt to separate his mother from of his father and Ike. He did his best to reach her, pushing people away from his path, wanting to rescue his mother from the horrible soldier. But before he had the chance, a second soldier arrived and the two men succeeded in dragging her away in the opposite direction. Kyle saw tears cascade down his mother's face, while she struggled in vain to free herself, yelling her sons' names desperately. His own vision was blurred by tears, and he was going to run after her, when a strong hand pulled him back. He turned around furious and hurt, expecting to see a Nazi, but was surprised to see his father.

"Kyle, there's nothing we can do!" His father said, pale and devastated. "We have to stick together!" But Kyle could not accept his words, this unfair fate, and tried to free himself from his father to save his mother. Gerald Broflovski pulled his son back a second time and Kyle turned to him, revolted.

"They took mom!" He screamed horrorstruck.

"Listen to me, Kyle!" His father pled while he rested his hands on his son's shoulders. "I think they want to separate women from men."

Kyle looked around, and what he saw bitterly confirmed his father's words. The soldiers were taking all the women away in a different direction. He saw other mothers being separated from their children, lovers divided by soldiers, young and old, with no exceptions.

"Where's Ike?" Kyle shouted in despair.

"He's right here." Gerald Broflovski gestured his hand, and Kyle saw his little brother was staring at him with big eyes from behind their father.

Soon, the group of males was amassed and guided by the commands of German soldiers. While they followed the Nazis, Kyle noticed a strange sickening smell infesting the air. The group was lined up, and one by one had to stand in front of a man in a white lab coat. They had to undress completely, and were quickly examined by the doctor who checked mainly their eyes, mouth and hair. He would say something to the soldier standing next to him and the fate of the Jew would be decided. If he were sent to the left, he was requested to walk to a door, still naked and carrying his own clothes. If he were sent to the right, he received a blue and white stripped uniform.

After the short examination, the three male Broflovskis received a tattoo on their left arm, close to the wrist. Kyle hissed when the needle pricked his skin, and afterwards he read 24551 on it. They also received their own uniform. It was made of very thin material and Kyle felt very cold in it. They walked through an open field. There, they saw hundreds of men in the same uniforms doing hard labor. Kyle looked shocked and swallowed dryly at the sight of what the future had in store for his family. These men were unusually thin, looked weary and defeated as if all of life's luster had been stolen away from them.

They finally reached an area full of long wooden barracks. The soldiers ordered them to enter one of them, while they unnecessarily pushed the males inside. The room was quickly filled up and a tall blond man entered, followed by the two soldiers. Based on the man's distinguishable uniform, and the respectful salutes from the other two soldiers, it was clear that he was a man of power. The blond officer gave the Jews a look of pure hatred and then started reading off instructions with a hard voice:

"Willkommen* in Dachau camp! This will be your home! Barrack D34 is now your residence! It's your responsibility to keep it clean and in order! You will wake up every day at 6.00 a.m., wash yourselves and eat breakfast! At 7.00 a.m you will stand outside for the calling. Then you will receive further instructions for your daily tasks in the camp! You will work till noon and lunch! Then you'll continue working where you left off! You'll work until 07.00 p.m. and then retire to your barrack! You are forbidden to speak while working, you are forbidden to walk around the camp after 09.00 p.m. and you are never to have any belongings! Do I make myself clear?"

The Jews answered in a broken, uniform, "Yes," and the blond officer left the barrack. The soldiers followed him outside and guarded the entrance. There was a moment of silence and anxiety; everyone sharing looks of uncertainty and fear. After a while, Kyle, his father, and his little brother explored the barrack. They found a large room filled with wooden tables and chairs. No doubt it was the common dining room. The following division had several lines of wooden triple bunks. Kyle noticed they were too small for the average man. The mattresses were made of a strange material he was unfamiliar with. The toilets and bathroom were also communal, the compartments way too small for the amount of people living in it.

Kyle laid on one of the beds and his brother went to join him, lying close to his body. Their father sat next to them, and proceeded to stroke his children's hair. They remained like this for what felt like a small eternity, in silence, ignoring the sounds of anguished mourning or exasperated anger that surrounded them. Kyle closed his eyes. He wanted to forget where he was. He just wanted to feel the warmth coming from his little brother's body, and sense the comforting touch of this father's fingers in his hair. He wondered where his mother was, how she was, if he would ever see her again, and if any of them would get out of this place alive. Hot tears escaped his eyes as he stumbled upon the realization that this was Hell.

…

**_A/N_**

***Willkommen = (German) Welkom**

**_I visited camp Vught in Hollandin 2009. It's the only camp I've ever visited. It was a labor/transit camp. Dutch Jews were brought to Vughtfor a temporary stay and then they would be transferred to another camp in Germany or Poland. Compared to other camps, Vucht was a rather "nice" camp, but life was already horrible enough…_**

**_Camps were an essential part of the Nazi's systematic oppression and mass murder of: Jews, political adversaries, and others considered socially and racially undesirable (members of the resistance, mental/physical disable citizens, Gipsy, homosexuals). _**

**_There were several types of camps: concentration camps, forced labor camps, extermination or death camps, transit camps, and prisoner-of-war camps (soldiers from the Allies troops, rebels, and members of the resistance). The living conditions of all camps were the camp all these groups were referred as "prisoners." _**

**_Dachau camp really existed. It was one of the first Nazi concentration camps, opened in March 1933, and at first interned only known political opponents of the Nazis: Communists, Social Democrats, and others who had been condemned in a court of law. Gradually, a more diverse group was imprisoned, including Jews, Jehovah's Witnesses, Gypsies, dissenting clergy, homosexuals, as well as others who were denounced for making critical remarks about the Nazis._**

**_This camp served as a model for all later concentration camps and as a "school of violence" for the SS-Officers. In the twelve years of its existence over 200.000 people from all over Europe (over 30 countries) were imprisoned here. More than 43.000 died of disease, malnutrition and suicide. Itwas only shut down with the American and British liberation in 1945._**


	2. Meet Herr Cartman

_Cartman is beyond doubt the most fascinating character Trey Parker and Matt Stone created. I mean, the kid is real a case-study! His childhood issues, his sexual issues, his obsessions, everything is truly, infinitely surprising. He can be a sweetheart (he loves cats, he befriended Shelly, he saved Kyle more than once) while he can be the world's greatest asshole. A selfish evil deceiving opportunist. And the more he fucks our mind, the more we hate him and the more we love him. I hope my interpretation of this chapter comes even a tiny bit close in making justice to this magnificent character._

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_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

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Herr* Cartman was a wonder child.

Like many good boys from model German families, he attended_ Hitlerjugend_** School. He was a role student and scored the highest grades. He was an example of all the good qualities to be found in a Nazi. He defended Hitler's ideologies zealously and truly believed Germany was building up a new and better world. A perfect world ruled by order, strength and intellect. A world ruled by a race superior to all other races in both physical strength and brilliant mind: the Aryans. Despite his young age, Herr Cartam had already written two extensive essays that caught the interest of the Nazi's Propaganda Ministry. One was about the undeniable Aryan race's superiority, the other about the indispensable extermination of the Jewish race.

Herr Cartman's hatred and despise for the Jewish people was inexplicably limitless. He loathed the short skinny pale dark haired people in every possible manner. Their looks disgusted him. Their arrogance and know-it-all attitude made him sick. Jews were always greedy for money, for gold and would steal it from others, independently of their condition or status. The Jewish children only attended the best of schools and once they reached adulthood, they exerted the best well-paid jobs. But that was before. That was past. The world was changing and evolving, because the Jewish threat was being eliminated.

Herr Cartman's essays were so impressive that the Nazi's Propaganda Ministry contacted der Führer. This child was a prodigy, a symbol for the future of their nation, an inspiration to all other German children. A special meeting was arranged so the young Nazi got to fulfill his wildest dream and meet his Führer*** in person. Herr Cartman had been emotional in that special and unforgettable day. He and Hitler had talked hours about their theories and their common dream of a world deprived of any imperfection. Der Führer had been so impressed with this boy's loyalty and love for the Party, his resolve to eliminate all Jews, his ambition to build Hitler's utopic world, that he promoted him to SS officer, at the very young age of 16.

Herr Cartman had cried tears of joy and kissed his leader's hands with love and devotion. He promised der Führer he would make every Jew that crossed paths with him, live hell before they would meet their inevitable death. And so, unsurprisingly, he was ordered to fulfill his life's mission in the prestigious concentration camp of Dachau. Any Jew that entered this camp was doomed to endure a torturous slow death. Herr Cartman would take away everything they possessed. Their riches, their loved ones, their dignity. He would humiliate them to the point of breaking their souls, to the point they would forget any nice thing about life. He would kill hope and steal the will for life. Herr Cartman believed there was only one fate for the Jews. To bow in defeat to the superior Aryan race and die.

…

Herr Cartman watched proudly as another train full of Jews arrived at his camp. He watched with great satisfaction the Jews being dragged out of the crammed wagons. Nothing could give him more pleasure than the look of terror in their eyes. He loved the sound of the women's desperate screams as they were separated from their loved ones. The cry of frightened children was music for his ears. He grinned while he watched the suitcases and trunks being piled up in a big mountain of cases. Their rich possessions would be confiscated and the rest of their contaminated belongings would burn in a great fire. He watched closely as one soldier opened a trunk and found gold in it.

_These filthy sick Jews always take their gold everywhere. They just cannot separate themselves from their precious gold. Fucking greedy bastards_!

The soldier threw the suitcase that no longer had valuable things into the pile of already burning trunks. Herr Cartman watched happily as other soldiers added bags, clothes, toys, books and a violin into the fire.

_Wait…a violin?_

"Hey! You fucking shithole!" Herr Cartman scolded the soldier that had just thrown the violin into the fire. The officer stared at his superior confused and frightened. "You don't fucking burn a violin!" He quickly grabbed the violin before the heat of the flames would reach it.

"But sir, we were ordered to burn all useless belongings." The soldier protested.

"You are an idiot! Violins are no useless belongings, you big piece of crap! They are music instruments!" The soldier stared back with a stupid expression. "Bah, you know nothing about culture!" And as he said this, Herr Cartman walked away with the violin in his hand.

…

Kyle still could not believe how the human being had the ability in adapting to extreme circumstances. He had been living in the D34 barrack at the Dachau camp for already four months. He remembered how uncomfortable it was sleeping in a small bed, with an itchy mattress and a thin blanket the first nights. He remembered feeling cold all the time, losing the feeling in his hands and feet due to the winter low temperatures. He remembered how his muscles remained sore and painful all day, result of the continuous heavy work. He remembered feeling starving at all times.

Despite of how challenging things were, his life had become a little bit more bearable than during the first weeks. His body had adapted itself to the physical adversities. At a certain point, his body simply stopped feeling the cold and instead got used to it. Just like it got used to the hard work and the lack of food. Above all, it were little survival tricks he learned during his stay in the camp that made the difference between life and death.

He and his brother always slept together, their bodies close, producing both warmth and comfort. The exhausted body from a long hard day of labor made it easy to fall asleep; but Kyle's mind had trained itself to wake up just before the waking call. He would wake up his father and brother, so they could wash themselves when few used the common bathroom, just before the morning's rush.

Kyle was observant and learned a lot by being creative or imitating Jews that lived longer in the camp. He noticed, during the long waiting minutes or hours (whatever pleased the Nazi's) for the morning rollcall, when the Jews stood immobile outside in the cold wind, sometimes in the cold rain; that placing himself close to his father and brother and right behind a taller man, helped to keep part of the cold away.

He had watched a few particular Jews during lunchtime. They always waited purposely at the end of the line to receive soup, unlikely the rest of the starving Jews that always struggled to be the first on the line. He followed their example and discovered, if you wait back on the line, the soup will actually have some solids in it instead of only water. Because the food sinks to the bottom of the pan. All these little tricks eased a bit the tortured days that passed by. Kyle had also ceased focusing in the life he once knew and lost. He gave up of all his dreams and ambitions his teenager's heart ever longed. His new purpose was now to survive and take care of his family. His only goal was to make sure they lived one more day. Just one more day.

Gerald Broflovski too had learned important tips from other Jews living in the camp for a while. It was the key to stay alive, the key to never anger the Nazis. Keep a low profile. He passed this knowledge to his sons.

Always walk with your head down. Never look up when a soldier calls you. Never look to their faces, above all, never look into their eyes. The eyes must always be fixed on the ground. Because Nazi's love submission, love to feel the power of superiority.

Never show that you are tired. Never give up. Because those who give up always die.

When a soldier insults you, never reply. Never protest. Never go against him. If he asks you anything, always agree with him. There is one Nazi in particular you must always avoid upsetting. Herr Cartman. Kyle knew who he was. He had seen him several times, scanning the work fields of the camp. It was a young SS officer. The bastard clearly hadn't reached adulthood yet, he was about his age. This fat pig, who screamed the most degrading insults, who lived from other's pain and suffering, was the most sadistic of all people in Dachau.

"_He's the dangerous one." _An older Jew warned him, the first time Kyle caught a glimpse of the large silhouette from the corner of his eye. _"He hates Jews like no other Nazi hates them. Be sure to never cross paths with him if you wish to stay alive."_ And Kyle had no plans to piss up the SS.

He always worked between his father and Ike. Every day it was the same routine. Breaking large stones into smaller ones, carrying them with their hands, dumping the stones on a chart, so they would be transported to a truck. Even though his hand's skin was broken and bled all the time, he didn't not feel the pain anymore. He had learned to ignore the pain and accepted it as part of his life. It was when they were carrying the stones that his father stumbled and fell on the floor. Kyle, without thinking, dropped his amount of stones and rushed to help his father get up. His action didn't pass unnoticed.

"Hey! You red haired Jew!" Kyle's eyes widened in terror. That was Herr Cartman's voice. The monster of Dachau. He froze and read the look of fear in his father eyes. Other Jews looked up very momentarily, but ignored the happening and went on with their work, like if nothing was going on. This was survival. Each one for himself. "Fucking Jew!" The voice came closer.

Remembering all the warnings and rules he learned since he arrived in the camp, Kyle stood up quickly and fixed his eyes on the ground. His father too, hastened to get up, and started gathering the fallen stones, while he urged Ike to continue working and act like nothing was happening. He had to limit the damage Kyle had already done.

The red haired Jew felt his heart beat increase and his breathing accelerated when his down casted eyes distinctively discerned the round form of a fat belly under the dark uniform opposite of him.

"What do you think you were doing?" Herr Cartman asked in a low but threatening voice. Kyle remained silent, just like he was taught to. "Well Jew. What were you doing?" He asked upset, but Kyle didn't dare to speak a word. "What were you doing, fucking retard Jewrat?! Answer me! NOW!" Kyle flinched at the shout and hesitated for some seconds. He had a dilemma. He had learned never to address a Nazi if he wanted to live, but he also had learned one should never disobey an officer's order.

"N-Nothing, sir" Kyle's voice was nothing than a mere whisper.

"What? You expect me to believe you? Tell me the truth!" Herr Cartman demanded impatiently. "Come on. Tell me the truth, you Jewish piece of shit!" Again Kyle hesitated but figured out the safest was to answer the angered Nazi.

"I saw a man fell down and went out to help him." Kyle whispered, his eyes shut tightly, anticipating the worst now.

"You what?!" Herr Cartman sounded truly outraged. "Tsc-tsc. So you little Jewboy thought you could just stop working?" He said in a fake sweet tone. "Well it doesn't work that way!" Kyle flinched at the sudden yell for Herr Cartman's satisfaction. He loved to see how Jews would waver under his power. He looked at the mass of red curls on front of him and became curious. Most Jews were dark haired, had dark eyes and long pointy faces. He wondered if this one was like this too, despite the rare hair color. "Look at me." He coolly ordered. Kyle's eyes widened. Herr Cartman had just ordered him to do the most forbidden thing. This would mean his death. "Look at ME!" The Nazi shouted, losing his patience.

Kyle bitterly realized it made no difference what he did. Being a Jew in a Nazi's world simply didn't offer any options. Whether he chose to look up or not, it did not matter. He was condemned to die either way. And so he regretfully accepted his fate, knowing death would finally come to claim him. All he could do was chose how he wanted to die. He did not want to die like a coward. So he obeyed. Kyle slowly lifted his head. Herr Cartman was slightly taken aback, not expecting him to actually look up. This action was the last thing he expected from any Jew. He had done this before and never did a Jew ever take their eyes from the ground, no matter how hard he yelled, no matter how much he insisted. This redhead was whether a fool or suicidal.

Kyle commanded all his fears to vanish. He lifted his chin slightly because the Nazi was taller than him and looked straight into the eyes of his enemy. If this would mean his death, at least he wouldn't give this monster the pleasure of seeing fear and defeat on his face. Herr Cartman was perplexed. This Jew actually dared to look at him in the same level. Worst of all, he dared to look into his eyes. Other Jews saw Kyle look up and broke the gaze, knowing the tragic end that awaited this foolish boy. Gerald Broflovski saw it too, but said and did nothing. He couldn't change events now and still had a young son to take care of. So he broke the stones with more force, breaking his skin and nails altogether with each blow, regretful tears cascading from his eyes. Kyle's action wasn't missed by the other Nazis either, who smirked both for his daring and imprudence. Soon he would be gone like many others, but he would be remembered as the Jew who dared to look upon Herr Cartman.

As for Herr Cartman, he remained a few moments paralyzed. He was lost in the depths of the young Jew's eyes. They were green. A forest green kind. And there was no fear in them. They were deprived of any kind of despair. Deprived of sadness and even weariness. And he wondered shocked, how was this possible? Why wasn't this Jew showing suffering like all the other Jews? Because all he read in those deep green eyes was inner strength and determination. Hatred, a great deal of hatred. Obviously, this Jew was not the quitting type.

Herr Cartman had become curious. He slowly walked around the Jew and examined him better. Short, skinny, frail. The typical Jewish body type. Kyle could feel his heart beat race to an unhealthy speed, wondering what was going on in the Nazi's head. Why had he not shouted at him? Why had he not struck him dead? Other Jews, including his father, gave short glances in his direction, too wondering what was happening. Just like the Nazi soldiers, that were now more curious than ever to see what their superior would do.

Herr Cartman walked twice around the Jew, watching him closely from up to down. He stood again opposite Kyle, held the boy's chin up and studied his face, turning it from one side to the other. Not exactly the typical long and pointy jawline from most Jews, long thin nose though. Although the skin was pale, it didn't have the sickening yellowness or grey shade some Jews had. He concluded, if this boy weighted some more pounds, was washed and well kept, was actually attractive to look at. And that was a strange characteristic for a Jew. Attractiveness. He wondered if this Jew belonged to some subcategory of Jews, one that had evolved itself in order to lose their ugliness and deceive the world with pleasant looks.

Kyle still had his eyes on Herr Cartman and couldn't understand the hell was going on. Why this guy was suddenly so interested in observing his features? He should have yelled his death sentence by now. Herr Cartman looked back into the green eyes and read the momentary confusion in them. He grinned maliciously and before Kyle could understand what was going on, he slapped him right across the face, so the redhead lost his balance and fell on the ground.

"Go back to your work, you lazy piece of shit! Move it!" Herr Cartman shouted and his wicked smile grew wider when Kyle quickly got up, grabbed his stones and ran away as fast as he could. "You have just unleashed hell on yourself, you little son-of-a-bitch." He whispered to himself. He turned to leave and his eyes met some soldiers that were still staring at him. They received cold chills in the back of their spines when they saw the malicious look on his face. And automatically knew, death would have been a kinder fate for this Jew.

While Kyle worked again, his cheek still glowing, but relieved nothing horrible had happened, he could not stop wondering why the Nazi had spared him. Maybe God had for once listened to his prayers. Little did he know Herr Cartman followed the Jew's movements closely with an evil smirk. There had been something in those eyes that intrigued him. Something that made him curious about this Jew. He wondered what it would take to break his will.

Herr Cartman had found new challenge.

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***_Herr: (German) Mister, formal use._**

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**** _Hitlerjugend school: (German) The Hitler Youth: It existed from 1922 to 1945. It was a paramilitary Nazi group and was composed by: _**

**_- Hitlerjugend, for male youth aged 14 to 18; _**

**_- Deutsches Jungvolk (German Youth), boys aged 10 to 14; _**

**_- Bund Deutscher Mädel (the League of German Girls)._**

**_The Hitler Youth were viewed as future "Aryan supermen" and were indoctrinated into racism. One aim was to instill the motivation that would enable Hitler Youth members, as soldiers, to fight faithfully for the Third Reich. The Hitler Youth put more emphasis on physical and military training than on academic study._**

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*****_der Führer (German)= The Leader, Hitler's well-known title_**

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**___A/N_**

**_Camp prisoners used all kind of tricks to survive. I learned the story about the soup during my visit in Camp Vught. Many managed to survive long periods of hard work and starvation, not only because of their persistency, but also thanks to the little tricks that eased their lives a bit._**

**_The rollcall was the moment the prisoner's number would be called out so everybody had to mark their presence by shouting "Present". It took place in the morning and the evening. If there wouldn't be an answer to a number, they would start all over again, so sometimes it would take hours before they were ready. But sometimes, they just make the prisoners stand for hours, for the sake of cruelty. Try to stand 5 minutes without moving one muscle. Then picture yourself doing this in the cold wind, under rain, or during the hot sun of the summer. And then for hours. Unbelievably hard._**


	3. Cruel mind games

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

One day, something extraordinary happened in camp Dachau.

A teenage Jew looked right into the eyes of the most dangerous SS. And survived. Jews thought God had given the boy a second change, but the Nazi soldiers knew better. It would have been preferable for the poor creature if Herr Cartman had taken his life right then. And Kyle discovered this the hard way. Because from that day on, things got worse for him.

Kyle noticed the change right on the day that followed their encounter. He was picking up stones he had just broken and, when he lifted his head to walk to the cart, he saw him. Herr Cartman was standing on top of the hill, staring right back at him. Kyle directed his eyes to the ground and practically ran to the cart, afraid the Nazi would harass him again. After he threw the stones into the cart, he discretely looked back at the hill and the Nazi was gone. This repeated itself several times that day, the following day and the one that followed it.

Herr Cartman was somehow always present. He was always somewhere nearby Kyle, somewhere the Jew could see him from the corner of his eye. The fact the SS did and said nothing, worried the shit out of Kyle. He knew there was a reason for the fat Nazi to do this, only he could not figure out the purpose. Kyle spent his days thinking in all kind of possibilities, theories for the Nazi's actions and his final goals. His mind started building up all kinds of disaster scenarios, most of them including horrifying tortures till death. Sometimes Kyle tried to convince himself, Herr Cartman was just doing his surveillance work and wasn't even looking at him. He was surely suffering of persecution obsession. But then, he would confirm, for the billionth time, the brown eyes were fixed on him. There was no denying. Herr Cartman was always observing him. Every little movement he did, Kyle felt watched. Even when he could not see the SS, he could feel his eyes in the back of his head. Anxiety was driving him insane. Kyle was constantly alert over day and would have nightmares with the Nazi's eyes at night. By the end of the week, he was certain he was paranoid.

"I guess he has an interest for you now, whatever his reasons may be." Gerald Broflovski told his son when the boy confessed his worries during the dark hours of the night. "Just continue acting normally. I think he wants to work on your nerves. If you ignore him, maybe he'll stop."

"What if he does something to me? To you or to Ike? I should have never looked at him... Fucking Nazi!" Kyle spoke with fear and anger, his voice stained with hatred. His father, feeling powerless, hugged his son and tried to comfort him, the only thing he could do to ease his child's worries.

"Well, it's not like you can change it, is it?" His father said with a sigh and kissed his boy's temple. He knew his son wasn't worrying for nothing, for he too had noticed the Nazi's strange come and goings. "It will be okay, as long as we stick together." Mr. Broflovski promised and Kyle closed his eyes, still worried, but feeling a little bit better. His father was right. He could not undo what was done. And maybe, if he indeed ignored the fat Nazi, he would stop with whatever he was doing.

…

Herr Cartam loved psychological games and a certain red haired Jew had just become the object of his playing. He started with the slow but gradual building up of tension, a subtle method that would slowly drive his victim mad. He started terrorizing Kyle with his mere presence. Herr Cartman watched closely the red haired Jew's movements, he observed him daily and followed every step he took. He quickly figured out the little tricks this Jew had found to make his hard life a little bit easier. Strangely, instead of feeling angry with the boy's cleverness, he actually smirked amused. He could not quite understand why he felt so fascinated by this Jew or why he made him so curious. All he knew was, the more the boy tried to pretend he hadn't noticed him, the more he wanted to torment the Jew. Herr Cartman promised himself he would do everything for the redhead to regret ever crossing paths with him.

After one week building up the pressure on the Jew's mind, by haunting him with his presence, Herr Cartman decided to break his silence. The cruel Nazi would now enter the stone grove and yell out commands, right next to the redhead. He ordered all Jews to break the stones faster and harder. He screamed while they ran to and from the cart. Of course, most of his attention was put on Kyle. The Nazi enjoyed this bullying. He loved to watch the boy struggle to overcome his physical limitations.

Kyle was living under permanent stress. It was already bad enough to sense the fat Nazi at all times, but things got so much worse when he started shouting and pushing him while he ran with the stones. His body was the proof of this mistreating, for his skin's hands were always broken and bleeding from the hasty smashing of stones. His back, legs and feet ached terribly from the physical strain of running faster and faster with the weight of heavy stones. He fell often when pushed by Herr Cartman and bled from his chin and knees. But he always got up again and carried on like nothing had ever happened. He never stopped, he never succumbed to exhaustion, he never gave up.

Herr Cartman witnessed the Jew's every successful struggle to carry on and was impressed by his mental strength. He smirked every time the boy would stand up again, never allowing a sound of pain escape his lips. He wondered how much further he could push until this Jew would finally collapse.

…

_Kyle is slowly breaking down_. Gerald Broflovski regretfully thought. He now spared his bread from breakfast, so his son could eat it in de evening. At lunch and dinner, he put the scarce solids he found in his soup on Kyle's plate. He proudly looked at Ike as he too offered his brother a small potato. _Ike knows Kyle needs all the food and rest he can get, because of that monster._ Kyle didn't want his family sacrificing for him and had opposed to their help. But it was useless, of course. They happily insisted in helping him out. Which warmed his heart and gave him the needed strength to carry on.

The other Jews avoided sitting, talking or being in the closeness of the Broflovskis. They too were aware of the grudge Herr Cartman had for Kyle. Some looked accusingly at the boy, like if he had jeopardized their lives. But Kyle ignored their behavior. He knew all too well that, in this camp, survival was the only thing that mattered. And right now, to be associated to him, in any way, was being in danger.

…

Herr Cartman felt a wave of pleasured joy invade his body when he saw the red haired Jew fall on his face and this time didn't get back on his feet. He was immobile and the only explanation he had, was that the Jew had fainted. Other Jews saw it happen too, but carried on with their work, walking pass by him like if he was invisible. Herr Cartman grinned maliciously. The Nazi walked to a well nearby and fetched a bucked filled of water. He returned and for his satisfaction, the boy was still unconscious. He stood right on top of the immobile Jew, his lips drew a wide evil grin and poured the cold water on the boy. Kyle woke up immediately, with a startle, as the sudden cold invaded his body.

"Get your fucking good for nothing ass up! It's no napping time!" The fat Nazi yelled.

Kyle's arms trembled as he supported his body weight on them, but managed to lift himself up. He felt terribly cold and tired. The water was freezing and the icy air only intensified the cold. He stood up, wrapped his arms around himself, while his body shook uncontrollably.

"Look at me, Jew." Herr Cartman said in a low and threatening voice. Kyle obeyed the command and the Nazi smirked with satisfaction at the sight before him.

The Jew could not stop trembling from the cold, his teeth were chattering wildly. The drops of water in the curly hair were solidifying in to small grains of ice. The boy's lips were turning purple and his face was paler than ever. Best of all, his green eyes revealed the struggle he was living to resist the cold. Herr Cartman found it fascinating to watch this strong will try to resist its bodily limits. It was a battle between body and mind. Never in his life had he ever seen anybody show this much drive. Jews always ended up by giving up at some point. Herr Cartman had seen many Jews fight to survive, only to later on succumb in defeat. But he never saw this kind of will, this kind of mental power in a person's eyes. This time, he wasn't surprised to see the inexistence of fear in the green eyes.

While standing opposite Herr Cartman again, Kyle finally understood what the Nazi was doing. He was challenging him, pushing him further to see how far he could go. He bitterly realized that, for Herr Cartman, this was nothing but a funny game. But for him, this became his test for survival. It was the second time he looked into the Nazi's eyes, and this time, he wanted the Nazi to read determination. He wanted the Nazi to read in his eyes he was never going to give up. He would not break him. Two could play this game, even if he knew he was the one to lose. But at least he would lose with dignity. The only thing the Nazis hadn't been able to rip away from him.

Staring at this stubborn Jew for a second time convinced Herr Cartman the boy had no ideas of giving up. Suddenly, an awkward thought travelled his mind. _If all Jews would have the same will as this one has, they would fight us back and could even defeat us._ Herr Cartman knew the only reason that kept this red haired Jew from attacking him was his sense. He had observed him long enough to realize this Jew was clever and rational. He pondered things through and was cautious with everything he did. Especially the day he dared to look straight into his eyes. It was never an act of impulse or imprudence, but a well thought decision. The redhead was nothing but one skinny Jew, yet Herr Cartman knew he had to be careful. He didn't dare to underestimate him. This one could actually attempt to plan some kind of revolution.

They stared at each other for what seemed ages. The cold in Kyle's body was increasing to an unbearable point. His body was starting to give up. He needed to move, go on with his heavy work, so he would warm up again. But Herr Cartman just stood there, silently staring back at him. The cold was becoming dominant. Soon it invaded his mind and all Kyle could think of, was how horribly cold he was. His body was weakening and his mind was slowly shutting down. Kyle breathed heavily and saw the world blur. Herr Cartman would have his way. The Nazi would win. And he would die.

Herr Cartman saw a change in the Jew's green eyes. They were losing their life brightness and instead became dull until they were simply plain green. He realized, however they were still fixed on him, they weren't seeing him anymore. Herr Cartman knew the body was taking control over the mind, defeating it.

"Don't stand here the rest of the day! Move on, you fucking scum bag!" Herr Cartman viciously yelled. Kyle startled and his eyes widened, like if he had awoken from a strange sleep. The Nazi witnessed the iris in the green orbs dilate and shrink again, so he knew his command had brought the weary Jew back to consciousness. Kyle looked just for one second at the fat Nazi, realizing he had blackened out. And he was reminded of where he was and who stood opposite him. "What are you waiting for, you Jewrat?" Herr Cartman yelled in a threatening tone and Kyle quickly commanded his frozen body to move.

He bent over, grabbed the stones and forced his heavy legs to move. At first, his body felt numb. But while the cruel Nazi ordered him to work, shouting degrading insults, a renewed adrenaline circulated in his blood. His legs first stumbled, then they became stronger and coordinate until they finally managed to speed up and run. Kyle realized the irony of the situation. As much as he hated it, it was the shouting in the background that had saved him and motivated him to move faster, go on and never give up. Herr Cartman had followed the red haired Jew for about a quarter of an hour. He screamed out the most horrible insults his sickened mind could come up with. And smirked feeling satisfied when he noticed the Jew had regained the needed strength to go on. Kyle's body felt warm again and by each insult, he became stronger. While Kyle was determined not to give up, Herr Cartman was determined to extend the miserable Jew's life as long as possible, for his own entertainment.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_It has become quite clear, already for many seasons, that Cartman is completely in love with Kyle. And it has developed into an obsession. One he will camouflage with his anti-Semitic ideologies, constant ripping and use of any pretext to humiliate Kyle. It's a rather cute disturbingly twisted but efficient way to receive Kyle's unconditional attention. Even though Trey Parker and Matt Stone have proved, millions of times already, that once Kyle and Cartman have the same goals and team up, they work great together (better than Kyle and Stan), in the same manner they proved Kyle and Cartman can actually be friends; I am absolutely convinced there will never truly exist Kyman in the show. It's my opinion that the feelings are one sided. Kyle is not gay neither bisexual. He likes girls and that's it. When he says he hates Cartman and that he would be better off without the fatass, he's actually being 200% honest. Because that's who Kyle is. Honest. He will never be more than a fantasy in Cartman's mind. And so, the fatass will always find a way to make the Jew a little bit his, in the most temporary, conjured and twisted manner he can think off. Whether that is insanely farting or singing a gay love song. In any way, he succeeds in keeping Kyle girlfriendless under the disguise of pissing him off._**

**_Just ranting off my thoughts._**


	4. Bodies' Fetcher

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Just when Kyle thought things could not get worse, they got.

It was already difficult enough to keep up with the heavy labor, intensified by Herr Cartman's pushing around. It was already bad enough to have to deal with the fact other Jews avoided any contact with him and his family. It was already horrible enough to live in this world of pain and uncertainties. But somehow, the fat Nazi managed to make things even worse.

"Number 24551! Step forward!" Kyle recognized his number during the morning rollcall and took a step forward, already holding a bad feeling in his gut. "Number 14873 has died. You will replace him and take over his tasks from now on. Go to the factory immediately and there you will receive further instructions."

The silence coming from the other Jews around Kyle seemed to intensify after the order was given. He resisted the urge to look at his father and little brother and obeyed the Nazi's command. He walked away from the group, distanced from the barracks and headed in the opposite direction of the working fields. No doubt Herr Cartman was responsible for this change of duty. Kyle swallowed dry. Each step he took closer to the factory made his heart beat faster. Whatever the fat Nazi had come up with, could never be good.

Kyle gave a quick look at the factory. It was a large grey building with a single door in the middle and had a few small windows. It looked dirty, unwelcoming and spooky. The red haired Jew raised his head and looked at the sky above the building. Every day, just before evening, black smoke would come out of the factory's chimneys, filling the air with an unpleasant stench. He had heard many stories about this place. Terrible tales that sent chills down his spine. Tales about atrocious torture, pain and death. Kyle's eyes watered as he realized he had not paid goodbye to his father and brother. He would never see his mother again, if she was even still alive. He would never see his best friend again, should the German Nation be ever defeated. He finally reached the old gray building and took a deep breath. He dried out his eyes and lifted his chin bravely. If today he was to die, then he would die with honor and dignity. And so, Kyle slowly walked towards the door, where a guard stood watching him warily.

"Are you 24551?!" The soldier asked angrily. Kyle wondered why Nazis were always so pissed up all the time.

"Yes."

"It's about time! Take the second door on the left!"

Kyle obeyed and entered the dark building. As he walked through the hallway he noticed there were many doors at each side of the corridor's walls and it reminded him of a hospital. A creepy one. He knocked the second door at the left. A voice told him to come in. It was a small office and an officer sat behind a desk.

"Number 24551?" The man asked, barely looking at him.

"Yes." Kyle dryly answered. The man opened a drawer and took out formulary.

"Name?"

"Kyle Broflovski."

"Age?"

"17."

"Barrack?"

"D34."

The man filled in the form and then gave it to Kyle. He stood up and gestured the boy to follow him. With a racing heart, the teenager walked behind the tall man till he stopped at one of the doors. He opened it, gesturing him to enter the room. Kyle obeyed and found himself in a small division with white sterile walls. There was again a man sitting behind a desk, but this time there was also a stretch bed. The man stood up, he was wearing a white cassock, no doubt he was a doctor. Kyle gave him the paper and the man read it diligently. He ordered Kyle to sit down on the bed and performed a series of routine examinations. When he finished, he wrote something in his typing machine and afterwards, dialed his phone to say 24551 was ready to go. Soon there was a knock on the door and a new soldier ordered Kyle to follow him. They walked along the long and dark corridor with many doors. He strained his eyes a bit as they reached the end of it and entered a large empty division with grey walls and an intoxicating smell in the air. The soldier pointed him a strange hand cart. It was longer than usual. Its sides were also higher and rounder.

"Number 24551. During morning shift, you'll search for corpses in the men's work fields and bring them to the morgue, the door at your right." Kyle followed the man's index while he felt his insides turn and thought his heart would explode. Did the man just say _corpses _and _morgue_? "During the afternoon shift, you'll proceed your task at the women's work fields. You are to transport maximum two adult bodies at the time, or one adult and two children or four children." The man coolly said, like if this was the most banal thing in the world. "When the doctor is ready examining the bodies, you will bring them over here and pile them up. At 06.00 p.m you will burn the bodies in the ovens." He pointed at the three holes on the wall. "You'll leave at 07.00 p.m. Not earlier, not later. Bodies you hadn't had time to burn will remain for the next day. Now go!"

Kyle, who was shaking from head to toes, lifted the hand cart, exited the factory and headed towards the men's working fields. His brains were still trying to process what he had just learned. Tears fell down his face unknowingly. He'd seen men collapse sometimes. He knew most of the times it was because they died. But he never questioned how the dead bodies were removed from the fields. He had always assumed the Nazis were the ones to handle this. He bit his under lip as reality sourly sunk in. Herr Cartman had made him Dachau's bodies' fetcher. He took a deep breath while a mixture of emotions invaded him. Anger, hatred, self-pity, revolt, disgust. But he knew he needed to be strong. He knew he needed to control his emotions. Otherwise he would give the sick Nazi exactly what he wished for. When he arrived the men's work fields, a soldier came to him.

"24551?" God, how he was starting to hate this number. He nodded, never looking at the Nazi. "You are only allowed to walk between the trenches. Do not disturb the others' work."

With a strangled "yes, sir", Kyle entered the first trench while he tried to scan the ground around him. But instead, he followed the movements of thin weary men and frail weak children. Jews with hollow eyes, tired, sad, beaten up. They were slaves of a world that have gone mad. They lived only to work, they survived only to delay their death. Kyle walked down several trenches with stumbling feet, pushing the cart that sunk in the soft mud. His eyes were always scanning the grounds, seeking and seeking for what he hoped never to find. And then his heart stopped. His vision was blurred by tears. He found his first corpse.

It was a man lying on his stomach with his face to the ground. Kyle clumsily walked away from the trench and approached the body. With shaky hands, he hesitantly touched the corpse. His fingers carefully pressed on the cold skin, like if he was afraid the corpse would attack him. Kyle blinked and hot tears fell on the ground. He took a deep breath and grabbed one of the man's arms. He suppressed an agonizing groan for it felt cold and hard. Gently, he turned the stiff body over and looked upon the dead man's face. Kyle turned around, his hand pressed on his mouth, his eyes shut tightly. A couple muffed sobs escaped his lips.

He needed to be strong. He needed to carry on. He didn't know exactly why anymore. He just knew he had to do it. So he turned around and opened his eyes again. He forced himself to look at the dead man. He needed to see reality before his eyes. He needed to confront death if he was to fulfill this new task. He if was to prove Herr Cartman he couldn't break him. The man's lids were half open, glassed eyes looking up, as if the last thing he did was to stare at the sky. His lips were departed, leaving the trace of his last breath. He was terribly skinny, his grey skin sunk against the bones. More tears were shed and Kyle couldn't look at those dead eyes any longer. So he gently pushed down the lids with his fingers. Afterwards, he dragged the body to the trench, lifted it up enough to place it on the cart. And headed away, searching for more corpses lying on the ground.

…

Gerald Broflovski observed his son concerned. Kyle had stood in the lunch line with a blank expression the whole time. He walked automatically, got his soup and sat next to his family.

"Where were you all morning?" Ike asked. The child stared alarmed at his brother, who was behaving strangely. Kyle didn't react to the question. The voice had sounded distant, empty of any meaning. He sat eating his soup without tasting it. Ike noticed his big brother was paler than usual and his hands were shaky. "Kyle?" He called, a bit louder this time.

Kyle heard the child's voice. He stopped eating and slowly turned his head to look at his brother. Ike felt a chill run down his spine. The older boy's look was a haunted one. Kyle stared at his little brother like if it was the first time he ever saw him. His gaze was entranced by all that sparkling life in the child's dark eyes, all that youthful energy imprinted on his young face. And he wondered for how much longer. Before that light would eventually die and those shinny orbs would become cloudy and dead. A wave of regretful compassion swept over his face and he rested his hand on his little brother's cheek. It felt soft. It felt warm. And then, he started crying. While Ike stared confused at his big brother, Mr. Broflovski put his bowl of soup on the floor and embraced tightly his older son. For, this morning, he had seen Kyle, down below at the trenches, transporting corpses on a long hand cart.

"It's okay Kyle, just let it all out." The father said, while he pressed his boy's body closer to his and rocked him back and forward like if he was a little child. "You'll be okay, my son. You'll be okay."

Not so far from them, a large fat SS officer watched the scene closely. He grinned evilly. _You're going down, Jew. It's only a matter of time._

…

_There is always hope, even in the darkest of all times. Do not believe God has abandoned you. For he spared your live in the selection, as He did your father´s and brother's. He allowed you to stay together, so you could support and take care of each other. He gives you health and strength to survive each single day in this hell. Do not look at the things you have lost, but those you still have. You must keep your faith in God. He watches over you, even when you think He doesn't. As for those who departed, they no longer suffer. They are with God now. And He has given you the power to pay them one last honorable respect. I know it's hard for you to accept the idea they don't receive a proper funeral and the blessings of a spiritual leader, but you still can give them one last prayer. Tell them what's in your heart. A small respect is better than none at all. _

These were the wise words of priest Maxi, a Roman-Catholic priest who, just like the Jews, was a prisoner in this camp. He was arrested for helping two families with handicap children escape from Germany. And now he spent his days breaking stones and his evenings giving spiritual guidance to men. Their background made no difference to him. It didn't matter if they were Christian, Jewish or Atheist. Because he was a man of God. And in God's eyes, we are all His children.

Gerald Broflovski had heard rumors about this priest in the camp. He had heard of how he lifted up the spirits of the desperate. And so he searched him and asked the man to talk with Kyle. The new bodies' fetcher had been wary and unwillingly at first, but priest Maxi's words did give him the needed hope. He decided to follow the man's advice. He truly hoped uttering small prayers would ease the pain in his heart each time he found a dead human being laying forgotten on the dirty ground.

…

He came across another corpse. This time it was a young man, in the beginning of his twenties. _Was._ _Past tense_. He lifted his cold and stiff body, laid him carefully on the hand cart and looked at him. He shook his head, in the brink of tears, thinking how unfair it was. How messed up this world was. That such a young soul should have to suffer such atrocities and die so soon. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

_I'm sorry this had to happen to you. I'm sorry your dreams were taken away so soon. I truly hope you are in Heaven now, in a safe haven, living a new life, resting in peace, finding joy beside God. _

He opened his watery eyes, grabbed the hand cart and proceeded with his work. He had to be quick and discreet so no soldier would be suspicious of his behavior or think he was taking a break. He sighed, a bit relieved, while he walked. He found it remarkable that priest Maxi had been right. He did feel a bit better after saying a prayer. And so, this way, this horrible task became a little bit easier. It became bearable enough to carry on.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_The function of bodies' fetcher was the most feared function of all prisoners in concentration camps. Not because it was physically heavy (actually, the work was light) but because it was mentally a strain for men's physiological and emotional condition. Men used to fetch bodies' until they would become crazy. When they reached insanity, the Nazi would simply execute him and substitute him with another bodies' fetcher, and so on. The hand cart is real. I saw one at Kamp Vucht, along with the ovens._**

**_As you probably already figured out, the two families that father Maxi helped are those from Jimmy Vulmer and Timmy._**


	5. Hope in the dark

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

It was after lunch and Kyle was walking in between the women's working field trenches.

Every time he wandered in the female section, he desperately looked around, in a constant search for a certain red haired woman. Always in vain. By each passing day, the hope she still was alive died a little bit more. Kyle gave more power as he climbed a hill to access another area of the women's work field. As usual, he was scanning the grounds for more corpses, while he lifted his eyes once and a while, always in search of that one familiar face.

Suddenly his eyes caught a glimpse of a dirty red color among the mass of women. He continued pushing the cart, with his head low, but never took off his eyes from the woman. Her hair was long, messy and curly and a new hope filled his heart. He slowly approached the line of women where the redhead worked. Her body silhouette didn't match his mother's. Could this be another woman after all? Or had his mother lost that much weight? His question would be soon answered, as he came closer and closer. He could see her features clearly now. With a racing heart, Kyle smiled, recognizing his mother's characteristic bend nose. A new wave of joy invaded his spirit. He wanted to call out for her, run and hug her tightly. But he knew all this was forbidden, was impossible. It would be a death sentence.

When he finally was close to her, he pretended to lose balance, making the cart wobble so a girl's corpse fell on the ground. Some women witnessed the incident and gasped shocked when they saw the dead child, but quickly ignored it and continued working. A Nazi looked in his direction but didn't take notice, believing it had been nothing but a clumsy accident. Kyle bended over and pretended he was going to pick up the body. He was right behind his mother. He threw a small stone next to her hand to catch her attention. She stared at the grit with a furrowed brow and immediately a second pebble followed. Perplexed, she turned her head to look behind her and see who was throwing stones at her. She froze and her eyes widened greatly when she saw none other but her own bubullah. Kyle quickly put his index in front of his mouth, urging his impetuous mother to remain silent. Fortunately it worked. He had little time.

"Dad and Ike are okay." He whispered. "I love you mom." Before Sheila Broflovski could react and say something back, Kyle quickly lifted up the dead girl's body, placed it back in the cart and moved away. It was a perfect timing, for the soldier was already looking suspiciously in his direction, but seeing the boy move again, returned to his sentinel.

Sheila Broflovski took fleeting glances in her son's direction while she worked. All her prayers had been finally answered. Her heart warmed up at the knowledge her men were still alive and well. Tears cascaded freely from her eyes as she mesmerized her oldest son's face. He was thinner, his hair unkempt and his face was dirty. But he had the same sparkle in his eyes he always had, since a little boy. They hadn't managed to break him. And although she later on realized, to her horror, he was the camp's bodies' fetcher; she thanked God for finding a way to bring them back together.

…

That evening the Broflovski males partied together. Kyle told them he had seen his mother. Told them she was alive and strong, despite her drastic loss of weight. They considered themselves lucky. All families had been separated, never having the chance to learn if their loved ones were safe or not. But fate had been kind to this one Jewish family. Kyle still hated his work. He still loathed that monster of a fat Nazi. But he felt blessed to be the bodies' fetcher. Because now that he learned where his mother was, he knew he would see her tomorrow again.

…

_I walk to the factory with the two last bodies. I bring them to the morgue. Or better, the dissection room. There is a man dressed in a white coat. It is stained with red blood. He autopsies a body. He tells me he needs to, while he cuts the chest, rips it open and reveals blood and organs. He tells me it's the only way he can determine the cause of death. As if that was difficult to figure out. Most of them died of disease or weakness. Others had a bullet in their brains, unfairly killed by a Nazi, only because he felt like doing so. Only because he had the power to so._

_I leave the room and enter the large division with dark grey walls. There I face the pile of dead bodies. They are more than I can count. Naked and opened up. Grey bodies and red blood. The sight doesn't shock me as badly as in the beginning, when I used to run to a corner and puke. The excruciating stench that fills the air still bothers me, though. This contaminating smell, coming from the dead, has been spreading through the room for already many hours. _

_I warm up the ovens. There are three of them, which makes my work easier. I can burn three bodies at the time. I place one body on a long iron platter and whisper: "May your soul rest in peace and be with God." I place the body inside the oven and watch the flames slowly consume the flesh. I go on with my work and burn body after body._

_At a certain point I know what's going to happen. I want to force myself to go away, but I'm stuck in my daily work routine. I see a body with its face to the ground. Knowing of what's coming next, I don't want look at it. But then again, I have no control of my actions. An unknown force impels me to come closer to the corpse. I reluctantly turn over the body. The dead man has his eyes closed. Suddenly they go open. Widely. And stare at me. Accusingly. _

Kyle woke up in a startle, panting and sweating. His brother, having sensed the flinch in his sleep, woke up too and tiredly opened his eyes.

"Had a bad dream again?" He sleepily asked.

"Yes, but I'm okay now. Go back to sleep." Kyle assured his little brother, with a kiss on his head.

Kyle watched in the dark his brother softly close his eyes. In no time his breathing became heavy and regular and Kyle knew the boy was sleeping. He wished he too could sleep as peacefully as Ike did. He was tired of having this dream repeat itself every night. He was doing this work for already two months. He could pick up corpses without feeling every time guilty for being alive. He could place them in the fire and watch them burn without becoming sick. But at night, his conscience would get the best of him. Kyle sighed as he tried to wipe the nightmarish images off his mind. He wearily closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep. He knew he would not dream it a second time. He never did.

…

"Ah! God damn it, Butters! You clumsy sleazy piece of shit!" Herr Cartman yelled furiously at the telephone. He swore, if that idiotic of a blonde was in the same room as him, he would punch him right on his face.

"I-I'm sorry Eric. I-It just hit so hard…I'm a dork, aren't I?" An insecure and sheepish voice came from the other end.

"Yes, Butters. You are a dork!" Herr Cartman confirmed, causing a heavy pause in the phone call. He nervously digged his fingers through his brown hair. He watched the clock and cursed under his breath "Where in Earth am I going to find a musician in less than four hours!

"W-well, I dunno…m-maybe we can go on without music." Butters suggested.

"Are you fucking out of your mind? Butters. Listen to me." Herr Cartman said while he balled his fist, took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Why did this little shitty good for nothing kid had to be this incompetent he would never know. "There are two things you cannot do without in a soiree. One is opium and the other is music. I have the opium. You were supposed to be in charge of the music!"

"I-I'm sorry Eric." Was the sincere apology coming from the other end. Herr Cartman sighed heavily, knowing there was nothing to do but improvise.

"I'm sure you are, you douchebag. I'll think of something." The Nazi said with a calmer and almost defeated voice. He hanged off without adding another word and hit the phone a bit too hard. "That little son of a bitch!" He said with his teeth clenched.

He had to think fast. There were few he knew that could play decent music and they were all too far away to make it in time. He paced from one side to the other in his office, complaining something illegible under his breath. Tonight he was having some important guests. They were children of influential officers he befriended during Nazi parties. It was absolutely necessary for this everything to be perfect. These were rich spoiled teenagers that expected a night with quality and wild experiences. And he needed to impress them so he could make his way to his next promotion.

He sat down on his desk while he rubbed his forehead. He had to think of something quickly. His reputation was in stake. He lifted his eyes and they accidently fell on a box kept away in a corner of his office. His mind traveled back to the day he stopped a stupid soldier from burning a violin. He had kept the instrument because of his love for music, since he didn't play it and didn't really know somebody that could. Then suddenly, he had an idea. Herr Cartman opened the box and took the violin out of it. It was a risky plan. It was unthinkable! But maybe, just maybe, it could work. He groaned realizing how desperate he was. Butters would pay him dearly.

…

Herr Cartman rushed to the working fields. He headed first to the male section, since it was closer. Would he fail, he would go to the women's fields. There had to be at least one fucking Jew who could play the violin. He ordered the laboring men to stop working and everybody was to stand on line, next to each other, facing him. Herr Cartman paced from one end to the other, making sure every Jew saw the violin he was holding.

"Does anybody here recognize this violin?" He asked with a loud voice, making sure that even those who stood the furthest, could hear him. There was no response. "Does anybody know who the owner of this violin is?" Still nothing. Herr Cartman was feeling more agitated by the minute. He was wasting his time, the musician was probably already dead. Still, he repeated the question one last time, with a little bit more force in his voice. "Does anybody know who this violin's owner is?"

"I know!" A high-pitched voice was heard among the group of Jews. Herr Cartman turned around hopeful.

"Who said that?" He demanded. "Take a step forward!" He saw a child step from between the line of male Jews. He was small and frail, dark haired and didn't look much older than 10. Herr Cartman walked towards him and had the slight unpleasant feeling this kid was familiar, but couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"Tell me, boy. Who is it then?" Herr Cartman asked.

"Kyle is."

"And who may this Kalh be?"

"He's the bodies' fetcher_._" The child's answer hit him like a blow. Herr Cartman stood paralyzed for a few moments, while the revelation slowly sunk in. He straightened up his back while he felt a strange chill go down his spine. From all the Jews in this world, the owner of the violin had to be _his_ Jew.

"Tell me boy. Does he play well the violin?"

"He plays it wonderfully." The child said with a proud smile and the Nazi knew the boy was telling the truth. He swallowed dry. This was awkward. His bullying victim was about to become his rescuer.

"Go all back to work!" He ordered angrily and all men obeyed him immediately, returning to their daily torturous task. Gerald Broflovski watched the fat Nazi walk away. He bent over while picking stones, so he was closer to his youngest son.

"Ike, why did you tell him? What were you thinking? You don't want to give more trouble to your brother, do you?"

"Dad, I have a feeling he really needed to know who the violinist was. I don't think he's going to hurt him." Gerald stared shocked at his little boy's sincerity and dangerous innocence. He secretly reminded himself to later on explain Ike that Nazis never have good intentions and that he could not rely on his feelings or instincts. The father sighed worriedly. All he could do now was hope that Kyle would do fine.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_It becomes it finally clear why the title is "The violin". If I were a god, the violin would be my chosen destiny/fate's instrument to make the lives of these two characters intertwine._**


	6. Bound by music

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Herr Cartman panted heavily while he climbed a small hill in the camp's female section to find the bodies' fetcher.

_Butters, you're going to pay for this! Making me walk an eternity to find a stupid Jew that can play music. He better be good at it or I'm really screwed up. And so will you Butters, so will you. _He cursed in his mind.

He finally reached the top but only saw the women working in the snow. He asked a sentinel for the bodies' fetcher whereabouts and soon he was running down the other side of the hill. He hated all this exercise, his lungs seemed to want to give away and his body felt heavier by each step. Usually he didn't walk this much. Actually, he rarely came to these parts of the camp, being too far located for his liking from his home office.

After a short while, he finally spotted the cursed Jew, who stood at the foot of the hill. Herr Cartman halted when he noticed the teenager was bending over while he coughed convulsively, taking a few hasty steps away from the hand cart. The Nazi truly hoped the Jew wasn't sick, because he had very little time left. But then, the boy turned around, his hand covering his mouth and traced his steps back to the cart. The Nazi grinned maliciously when he saw the cause for the Jew's sickened behavior. Close to the cart laid a corpse in an advanced decomposing stage. And taking by the way Kyle was acting; the body was releasing an excruciating rotten smell.

For the past few weeks, Herr Cartman had too been searching for bodies, only with a different purpose than Kyle. He found them, stole them away and hid them in a secret place with enough warmth and dampness to decompose properly. Once he was satisfied with the rottenness of the bodies, he would bring them back to the camp, place them strategically in the Jew's route, but distanced from the work fields. This was his personal prank for the red haired Jew and wanted nobody else to know about this. The reason why he sneaked after the evening's fall, when all the Jew's had returned to the barracks and no soldiers were to be found in the fields. He acted in secrecy and moved unnoticed in the shadows like a coon.

He observed Kyle amused, forgetting momentarily the reason he had come all this way out. The Jew quickly recovered from his attack and started throwing snow on the corpse. He diligently spread the ice on the decomposed skin and then lifted the body to place it on the cart. Herr Cartman observed his actions with some awe, understanding the Jew was using the snow to camouflage the stench. _Fucking genius_. He thought while he listened the boy utter some loud and unkind curses.

"Fuck!…Sick dude!…Disgusting!" Kyle complained while he threw more snow on the corpse, until a reasonable white layer covered the body and apparently, the smell too. When Kyle picked up the cart and started walking away, unaware of the Nazi's presence, Herr Cartman was reminded of the reason he was there.

"Hey! Jew!" Herr Cartman shouted and Kyle froze. He slowly turned around, this one specific voice being the last one he wished to hear right now. It had been too good to be true not to see the fat Nazi for several days in a row. "Come here!" The SS ordered and Kyle obeyed, leaving the cart behind him and walking with his head down, his eyes fixed on the white snow. He stopped when he saw the dark boots in front of him. "Look what I've found." Herr Cartman said with an overly sweet singing voice.

Kyle slowly lifted his eyes and then saw the violin. The Nazi smirked satisfied. He needed not to ask if it belonged to the redhead, for his face told him everything. Kyle's eyes widened greatly when he saw the violin. They shone from blissfulness the moment he saw his most precious belonging unharmed. An unexplainable happiness invaded his heart. "You and I are so lucky I saved this violin from the flames." The Nazi proudly stated and Kyle, without thinking, lifted his head to look at him. He realized immediately what he had done and redirected his gaze back to the snow. Yet, it had been enough for the SS to see the surprise, joy and gratitude in the glint of those green eyes. It somehow disturbed the Nazi, for he was only used to see hatred in them. He cleared his throat. "Come with me now."

He ordered, turned around and started walking. After a few steps, he realized he wasn't being followed. Kyle stood on his spot paralyzed. "Don't worry about the cart, I'll have somebody do the rest of your work for today." Herr Cartman told and Kyle hesitantly followed him. The Jew had a thousand questions burning in his mind. Why did the fat Nazi have his violin? How did he find out he was its owner? Why did he have to leave his work behind? But he dared not to express his curiosity. "I'm having an important soiree with some friends tonight." Herr Cartman suddenly started talking, in a casual tone. He turned around to see if the boy was still walking behind him. He was and his were eyes glued on the snow. He smirked satisfied with his subservient behavior. "One of them plays the clarinet, but the fucker broke a finger today. Unfortunately I couldn't find any replacement. That's where you fit in." _I must be fucking out of my mind. Completely mad!_ He bitterly thought. Suddenly, he turned around and Kyle almost crashed against his large belly. "How good are you?"

"I followed classes at the Bach Institute in Frankfurt and was one of the best. But I haven't played the violin for about four years." Kyle answered sincerely, still trying to process what the Nazi had just told him.

"Why did you stop?" Herr Cartman asked irritated, already worrying with this fact. That was a long time without any practice.

"I couldn't play. My family and I lived hidden during three and a half years." He bitterly said. Herr Cartman sighed, knowing it was a common thing. Many Jewish families chose to live hidden in some shithole like rats until they were discovered. They had to live in absolute silence, the smallest sound being enough to betray their presence.

"Then I hope a little practice will be enough for you to remember how to play the violin properly. Because if you somehow screw things up, if you in any possible way displease my guests, I promise you. It will be your and your miserable family's ruin." The Nazi threatened coldly, staring right into the deep green eyes. And for the first time, he actually read a hint of fear in them. Herr Cartman smirked. He had found the Jew's weakness.

…

Herr Cartman guided Kyle to a part of the camp he never had been to. Each step he took, brought him further away from the working fields and closer to the Nazi's condominium. This was the forbidden zone. Hitler's follower's territory. Suddenly, Kyle had an awful thought. _What if this is a trap? What if Herr Cartman is simply going to end my life tonight? Or torture me! No, probably he's telling me the truth. He has, after all my violin. Right? _With a bouncing heart, he walked obediently behind the large Nazi, because he had no other choice, and kept all his anxiety to himself.

They reached a large building. Herr Cartman unlocked the door and they entered. Kyle almost gasped, for he had already forgotten how the interior of a house looked like. He stared with some wonder and nostalgia at the clean creamy colored walls, warmed by the presence of dark wood and the golden artificial light. Only the hallway already indicated how richly decorated the house was, filled with valuable materials, furniture and paintings. Herr Cartman gave only a quick glance at the Jew that stood at his door step, his eyes clearly admiring the surroundings, and was impelled to draw a small smile.

"Alfred!" Herr Cartman yelled, and soon, a middle aged man dressed in a black suite came to join them. He furrowed his brow in confusion, when he saw the teenager in the striped uniform. "This Jew will be tonight's musician. I need him washed, dressed properly and them bring him to my office as soon as possible." He commanded and left Kyle with the butler. It was an awkward moment as both stared at each other, one perplexed and the other giving an uneasy smile.

"How may I address you?" Alfred finally broke the silence.

"Uh…My name is Kyle." The redhead answered uncertain.

"Kyle. Now that sounds much nicer than a number, doesn't it?" He kindly said and Kyle smiled spontaneously. "Come. Let's get you into the bath."

…

Kyle thought it was funny how it didn't bother him anymore to be naked in the presence of other men. After all, he was daily confronted with nudity in the common bathroom, not to mention the days of selection, when the Nazi's ordered all men to undress, run a track outside and examine their bodies. Also, Alfred had been nothing but kind to him, so the teenager felt completely at ease with him.

He learned the butler was an Austrian that came to Germany many years ago to work for rich families. His last employer was a third generation Jew, who unsurprisingly disappeared mysteriously, so he became unemployed. Alfred sough new work and came under the protection of the SS a few years ago. He was in Herr Cartman's service since short.

While Kyle scrubbed his legs and arms in the bathtub, Alfred cut a bit of his untamed curly hair, giving it a nice model. His fingernails and teeth received special attention, the butler made sure they looked clean and healthy. Kyle almost felt guilty for enjoying the warm water, the scent of aromatic soap and the small pleasure of feeling clean again. Alfred brought him a dark grey suite that fit him almost perfectly, for he had lost quite some weight. The butler guided him to a mirror and Kyle gasped.

The teenager had glanced earlier at the mirror, when he first entered the bathroom. It had been the first time he saw his own reflection since he got in Dachau camp. Kyle had not recognized the boy in the mirror. This face looked strange, old, sad and weary. His curly hair had gained a dull red color, was messy and too long. He had become really thin and his skin looked grey and dirty. The reason he now stared with incredibility at his reflection. Because now he saw the memory of himself. Alfred had done a great job with his hair. It still was longer and bigger than he was used to, but it was a model that actually looked good on him. His cleaned skin had regained its normal color, his eyes looked alive again. The suite actually made him fine-looking.

"I believe we have a young gentleman in the house." Alfred said with a proud tone. "Come, time to confront the beast." He teasingly said, referring to his employer and causing an amused chuckle from Kyle.

Soon the butler was knocking on a door and Kyle stood behind him, fidgeting nervously on the blazer's material. Suddenly he wished to be back in the working fields, back in his dirty old uniform. This evening was already bringing back old memories, when there was a time that being clean, dressed in nice clothes and playing the violin was something normal. Kyle was getting a glimpse of his life before the war, one he had long banned away from his memory in order to survive in the camp. And now it was all coming back again. He heard Herr Cartman's voice command to enter and Alfred opened the door. Kyle felt his anxiety increase when words were exchanged, while he entered the office alone.

There was a moment of silence, after the door was closed behind Kyle. Herr Cartman had waited expectantly for the Jew, hoping he would at least look decent. But never in his life had he expected this kind of transformation. Alfred had done more than an excellent job. He stood up and paced in the room, his eyes transfixed on this new young man. The clothing definitely gave him a new dimension. The hair, which irritated him the most, always untamed and bushy; shone now in a pleasant shade of auburn, the curls were silky and fell perfectly against the pale features.

"Look at me, Jew." Already used to this command, Kyle lifted his head.

For the first time, Kyle felt exposed and vulnerable. The fields were his territory, but now he was in unfamiliar grounds. He was in Herr Cartman's world and living the shadows of a life he once knew, long ago. Still, he refused to let it transpire. His heart raced faster as the SS-officer said and did nothing. He merely stood there, staring at him. Kyle tried to hide his discomfort by not glancing away from the brown eyes. He could not let the Nazi suspect any of his distress. Herr Cartman, on the other side, was hypnotized by the boy's looks. He had already deduced, the first time they met, that the redhead could be a handsome young man. But he never expected this. Now that Kyle was cleaned up, his creamy pearl skin was revealed. It was the first time the Nazi saw the many soft freckles paint his face. His bony features were softened by the silky skin and by the red curls that shaped his face kindly. Even his deep forest green eyes looked softer. This boy, unlikely the common Jew, was exquisite.

"You look presentable." Herr Cartman finally said, sounding slightly insecure about his words. He knew very well "presentable" was a too underestimated word choice. He turned to his desk and missed the sigh of relieve the Jew let out. "Now, I have here the music staves of the compositions I want you to play tonight." He said in a businesslike tone, while he handed them over to Kyle. He didn't miss the slight smile and glint in the Jew's eyes when he saw the papers. He then presented the violin and its bow. "So why don't you play a bit? See if you still have the hang of it." Herr Cartman watched the Jew hold the violin with slightly shaky hands. His fingers caressed the wood gently, while his smile became a loving one. He then placed the violin under his chin, closed his eyes and let the bow slid down the strings, producing a sound.

"Uhg, very much out of tune." Kyle said with his brow furrowed. The Nazi watched fascinated as the Jew engaged in a process of regulating the strings, testing the notes, more regulating, more testing, until he was satisfied with the sound the instrument produced. It was, beyond doubt, the professional behavior of a true musician. "Which one should I start with?"

The Nazi placed the pages with the music staves on the right order and awaited expectantly. Another two hours and the guests would be arriving. He hoped the time they had would be sufficient. The first tries were played hesitantly and clumsily. Herr Cartman thought he was going to despair and was about to scold, when he realized he was not the only one frustrated. Kyle sighed and looked upset for moments. He adjusted better the violin under his chin, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a short pause, he let the music flow more gently, less hurriedly and the SS-officer breathed out of relieve. Kyle allowed himself to forget all his worries and the pressure the Nazi was putting him under. He let himself drown in the music, only opening his eyes to glance briefly to the papers. While he played, he forgot the world around him. He forgot the misery in the fields, the days of hunger and cold, the bleak faces of the dead. He forgot with who he was, where he was and his task for the evening. For now, he let himself be completely enveloped by the melodic sound. All his thoughts faded away with the music.

When he played the last composition's note, he opened his eyes and looked at Herr Cartman expectant. The Nazi had a strange expression in his face, a mixture of shock and music had been played so beautifully, so gently and yet so powerfully. It had touched his cold heart. Herr Carman, sensing the inquisitive look on the Jew's face, quickly regained his composure, straightening his back and lifting his chin a bit, to transmit a feeling of authority.

"Sounds good." He cleared his throat, for his voice had come out a bit shaky. "Do proceed."

Herr Cartman could had sworn that the Jew's eyes had smiled at his words, while his face remained impassive. But he quickly shook the thought away. Soon, Herr Cartman too closed his eyes and surrendered to the sound of the music, letting it soothe all his troubles away. Jew and Nazi remained together in the office, in a world where no words were needed, where no races, hierarchies and wars existed. Where feelings like hatred, pain and sadness were banned. They remained in this idyllic world made of only melodious sounds until Alfred knocked on the door announcing the guests had arrived.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_Alfred, the butler, is a totally fictional character, invented by me. His presence and secondary role in this story is to help consolidate better the plotline. I borrowed the name Alfred from the Batman movies. _**


	7. The soiree

**I want to thank you all for your kind words in the reviews for the previous chapter: ****SouthParkFan99, svartbil, serendipityrain711 , ****Anonymous The Nobody, ****Cster, symphknot, CelticQueen09. ****I was delighted to read them ;) **

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_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War  
_

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Herr Cartman quickly left the office.

Kyle stood staring at the door, the violin still on his hands, not sure of what he should do now. Alfred, reading his insecurity smiled.

"I heard you playing the violin. You have a lot of talent." The butler complimented and Kyle smiled pleased while he expressed his thanks. "Considering it will take a while before they'll call you in, would you like to eat something?"

"Oh yes, please." Kyle said almost too anxiously and the butler gestured to follow him, while he gave the boy a compassionate look.

During his years of employment under the Nazi, Alfred never spoke his opinion about Hitler and his political Party's ideologies. Nobody, not even Herr Cartman, knew if he agreed with the genocidal plans or not. He just did what he was ordered, without ever questioning. But this didn't mean he actually was oblivious to what happened around him. Alfred could not understand how the world had reached this absurd point. For all he saw right now, was a boy, still waiting to reach adulthood, forced to see and live indescribable horrors. All he saw right now, was a fragile human being, with and a musical gift that would envy even the greatest composers. Germany had become an unfair country to live in, and its maddened ideologies spread themselves throughout the rest of Europe with violence and cruelty. He wondered what for future awaited this teenager and all the other souls that had to live in such awful times. But his contemplations were interrupted, as they reached the kitchens.

A delicious smell hung in the air, making Kyle feel even hungrier. To his great delight, he was guided inside the kitchen and offered a seat by the wooden table. He could not believe his eyes when he saw a plate with real homemade soup, accompanied by bread and butter.

"It's something simple, but I believe it will satisfy your hunger." Alfred said, while he placed the soup on the table.

But for Kyle, this food was divine, a gift from God sent from Heaven. He was so starving and had already forgotten the taste of real food, that he overlooked entirely his table manners and ate voraciously. Kyle had to fight tears back, as he felt suddenly overwhelmed by the pleasure of such basic things. A warm bath, clean clothes, a belly full of food. He didn't know if he was blessed by God and being rewarded for his daily struggle in the concentration camp, or if this was torture, because he knew, in a matter of hours, this wonderful world of colors, warmth and pleasant scents would be stripped away from him again. He decided he wanted to enjoy and live the present and pretend, just for a few hours, he wasn't a Jew and Nazis didn't exist.

…

The moment had arrived. It was little over ten and the dessert plates were being lifted from the table. Herr Cartman and his guests moved to the sitting room and Kyle was requested to come and play the violin. Herr Cartman stood by the door, already waiting with a dangerous look on his face.

"You will only speak when spoken too. You will not tell your function at the camp. You will not talk about gloomy stuff. Your function here tonight is to entertain. Keep my guests happy at all times. Understood, Jew?" Kyle nodded and swallowed hard. Herr Cartman opened the door, still eying him threateningly. He hadn't missed how Kyle looked paler than earlier.

They entered the richest and most beautiful living room Kyle had ever seen. The furniture was made of expensive dark oak, the decoration luxurious, with vases and sculptures from all different cultures. A large and exquisite golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, there were paintings on the walls and some decorative mirrors too. His eyes met a beautiful blond girl and a brown haired boy sitting comfortably on the large coach. They were about his age.

"My fine people, I present you our musician for tonight." Herr Cartman eloquently said while he cordially gestured Kyle to enter. "Your name, Jew." He whispered with his teeth clenched.

"Good evening. My name is Kyle Broflovski. It's a pleasure to be here today." He politely announced with a gracious bow. The blond girl applauded excited while the brown haired boy smiled genuinely. Kyle gave purposely a haughty look at Herr Cartman, who snickered amused at the boy's audacity.

"I'm sure the pleasure is all mine!" The blond girl seductively said, while she stood up and raised her hand toward Kyle. There was a quick switching of glances between the Nazi and the Jew. Herr Cartman nodded and Kyle gently held her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it, so the girl giggled satisfied. "Call me Bebe." Kyle nodded and couldn't resist a smile when she gave him a flirty look. She was a beautiful young woman, with long wavy hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a black long dress, which outlined her body contours very generously.

"And I'm Clyde" The brown haired boy cheerfully said, stretching his arm to shake Kyle's hand. "Isn't Broflovski like a Jewish name?" He asked and Kyle froze. He had no idea what he was supposed to say now, but Herr Cartman, who was of course expecting this, intervened.

"Yes Clyde. Great observation. He's Jewish, all right." Herr Cartman nonchalantly said, causing confused looks from his two guests. "You see, that son-of-a-bitch of a Butters, who was supposed to play for us as normally, was so clever to break his useless finger today. The reason he and Craig are late. They had to go to the hospital. Anyway, this Jew, who happens to work in meh camp is quite the violinist, right Kahl?" He said, while he pressed his fat fingers on Kyle's shoulder (who swallowed dry), as a warning.

"Don't Jews carry all kind of diseases?" Clyde asked a bit fearfully.

"Ay? You honestly think I would take a sick bastard to join our soiree!? Look at him! Does he look sick to you?" Herr Cartman scolded upset. "In meh camp we make a fine selection. Only the healthy stay. The rest is transported to Poland." He patted Kyle's back with a bit too much force, emphasizing his point. Clyde still gazed a bit suspiciously, but Bebe had already surrendered herself to the Jew's charms.

"Well, I think he's gorgeous." She said, while she took Kyle's hand and guided him through the room. She sat on the couch and patted the empty space next to her invitingly. Kyle hesitated, and again, looked at Herr Cartman. He nodded in permission.

"So tell me, Kyle. How long do you play the violin?" Bebe asked while she locked her blue gaze on him. Kyle looked down at the instrument he was holding and smiled at the pleasant memories it gave him.

"I started when I was 6."

"Wow, that's really young." Clyde exclaimed, sitting on the other side of the room. Herr Cartman sat on a couch nearby his friend, taking quite a gulp of whiskey. He could feel his fingertips tingle from the nerves. "Butters started playing clarinet when he was what? 13?"

"Actually, he started when he was 9, but the fool never took it serious until 7th grade." Herr Cartman clarified.

"So…How long are you in this camp?" Clyde asked curiously.

"7 months, 2 weeks and 11 days."

"Wow! You surely keep a counting record!" Clyde stated amused.

"I like to keep track of time." Kyle dryly answered. Bebe, meanwhile brought two glasses of whisky and handed one to the Jew. "I'm sorry. I don't drink when I play."

"Afraid to get the notes wrong?" Bebe teased but consented, placing his drink on the table. "For later on, then. Tell me Kyle, what was your life like before you came to the camp? What were you dreams?" Kyle hesitated and watched Herr Cartman. There was a look of warning.

"I had a, ehm…normal life. I went to school, played basketball with my friends, had violin classes. I meant to go to the Conservatory and specialize in music." He casually said, hiding any hint of regret. He looked again at the fat Nazi and he gave a small nod. So far so good. "Would you like to hear me play?" He asked, before more questions would pop up.

"Yes, please!" Bebe enthusiastically said. Herr Cartman sighed relieved and poured some more whiskey in his glass.

He watched Kyle prepare the papers with the music stave, place the violin under his chin and look concentrated for some moments. The Nazi could sense the expectation in the room, as both Bebe and Clyde stared at the Jew with curious eyes. And then the beautiful smoothing notes filled the air, coloring the world with its melody. Just like hours earlier, everybody surrendered to the music and let themselves be transported to new worlds, let the crying soft notes reach their hearts. Kyle was already playing for a while, when somebody knocked on the door. He stopped immediately startled by the sound and everybody groaned at the interruption.

"My lord, the final guests have arrived." Alfred announced and allowed another two teenagers enter the room. Herr Cartman and Clyde stood up to greet their friends.

"Nice to see you Craig" The fat Nazi said while they switched back pats. "Butters! You asshole!" He said under his breath.

"Guess which finger Butters broke." Craig said with an amused tone while he gave the middle finger.

"No way?" Clyde burst into laughter while Butters became redder by the minute. He was fidgeting nervously, his left hand's middle finger wrapped in gyps. "You're such a fag. How did it happen?"

"Uh… I-I was playing volleyball with Tweek a-and another few guys a-and the ball hit my finger so hard." He nervously recounted and the guests burst into laughter.

"Well, I know it's bad this happened to you, Butters." Clyde said, while he wiped some tears from his eyes. "But I'm glad it did. Otherwise we wouldn't have the pleasure to listen to Kyle's violin tonight." He said with sincerity, very much for Herr Cartman's and Kyle's relieve. The brown haired boy pointed at the Jew. Only now did Craig and Butters notice him.

"We did hear some music when we arrived. Sounded incredible." Craig said while he gave an appreciating look. "Nice job, Cartman." The fat Nazi didn't miss the double meaning behind his words, knowing perfectly well in which team Craig played. He ignored the hungry look the black haired boy gave the Jew and invited him and Butters to sit down. He gave them drinks and then looked at the violinist.

"Kahl, do proceed."

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**A lighter chapter for a change. Introducing some South Park characters in this story :)**


	8. Wild Night

_**Thanks to all of you that reviewed the previous chapter. I'm enjoying to read you are enjoying too! ^^**_

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_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War_

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Kyle played all music compositions Herr Cartman had given him.

When finished, he received a great ovation from the guests and the host himself. Then drinks were distributed by all. Butters pulled a chair for Kyle, so he sat between the two large couches. He was thirsty from all the energy put in the music and drank his whisky eagerly, causing some amused giggles in the room.

Kyle smiled genuinely. He was having a wonderful time. He had not played the violin for too long. Four years without letting even the smallest note escape the instrument had been a torturous eternity. The reason why he would play the rest of the night if he was asked to. Kyle was also enjoying the company. He actually though the Nazi's friends were nice and fun. At a certain point during the night, he had drank enough to laugh as cheerfully as the others. In the back of his head he had thought the sound was strangely familiar. He truly could not remember the last time he had laughed this much.

Butters asked him if he knew other compositions. And he did remember fragments of some, which he played with pleasure. When he could not remember any other symphonies or sonatas, he improvised and started quite a jam session, joined by clapping, singing and dancing. An enjoyable sphere reigned in the living room, the result of the combination of drinks, music and laughter. Butters, who was clearly the one with the less resistance to alcohol, asked Kyle to teach him how to play the violin. It was a funny situation, Butter's handling the violin clumsily with his broken finger, playing horribly out of tune; and Kyle having spontaneous fits of laughter due to the situation.

Herr Cartman watched Kyle with an amused smile on his lips. The damn Jew had surprised him today with his talent, spontaneous and charming manners. Craig sat next to him and watched the Jew with a similar interest. Since he arrived, he didn't take his eyes away from the red haired boy. Herr Cartman was, of course, aware of this. Yet, he wasn't surprised all that.

"Wipe those dawn sick thoughts away, will you?" Herr Cartman said out of the blue, but Craig knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You have to admit. He's quite an interesting specimen." Craig said in an appreciative tone. "Quite exotic, if you'd ask me. Red hair, green eyes, creamy skin. Rather on the skinny side, but hot, nevertheless. How much would you sell him for?" Craig casually asked.

"He is not for sell." Herr Cartman merely stated.

"1,000 Mark?" Craig suggested.

"Craig, I'm warning you."

"1,500 Mark?"

"You're not having him.""

"2,000, perhaps?"

"Cut it off, asshole! I've told you before. I don't sell meh Jews so you're not buying this one either!" Herr Cartman murmured annoyed. He knew very well what was playing in other boy's mind. He knew Craig often bought Jewish boys to abuse them, until he eventually lost interest and sent them to their deaths. Not that it bothered him, he could care less. But Herr Cartman somehow didn't want Craig to have Kyle. He decided a long time ago this redhead was _his _Jew. He was _his_ toy and he was the only one who got to play with it.

"Okay, fine. I get it. You want him for yourself. Can't blame you for it." Craig dismissed pacifically, but the fat Nazi felt the blood rush to his head.

"You have a weird imagination." Herr Cartman retorted upset, causing a knowingly smirk in the other boy's lips. The fat Nazi nervously drank the rest of his glass empty. Craig was right about him, of course. His own mind started imagining all sorts of things he could do to this Jew, all of them being quite hot and steamy. _He is truly tempting, makes me want to roll my fingers in those red curls and taste his creamy skin…Wait! What? What the hell am thinking? Did his fucking kike just put some kind of Jewish spell on me? Fuck, what the hell I'm I thinking? Damn this Jew, he's giving me weird thoughts. _The fat Nazi rubbed his temple nervously and could already feel some sweat drops on it. He decided he had enough of whiskey for one night.

"Hey Cartman, bring us the good stuff" Clyde suddenly said between the laughter.

"Yeaaaay! The gooooood stuff!" Butters stupidly echoed while he handed back the violin to Kyle. Herr Cartman shook his head at the blonde's overenthusiasm. He got up, left the room but quickly returned with a box. Kyle watched him with curiosity as the fat Nazi sat down and distributed some strange pipes to his friends. The Nazi put some kind of dried substance on the end of the straight pipe, lighted it, puffed it a few times and then handed it over to Kyle.

"Ehm, I don't smoke." Kyle politely refused.

"This is no ordinary stuff! It's opium." Herr Cartman said in an offended tone.

"Opium?! Isn't that illegal?" Kyle asked appalled, while the others giggled amused. The Nazi stared blankly at him and then arched an eyebrow.

"Of course it is illegal. That's what makes it fun! Now take it." The fat Nazi said in a tone that added no discussion.

Kyle swallowed hard. His parents would kill him if they were to discover he was having a wild night with alcohol and drugs. Yet, part of him was curious. He had heard enough stories about opium's relaxing but hallucinogenic properties, but never thought he would ever dare to try it. "Come on! Take a smoke, Jew!" It was not a request, but a clear command and Kyle obeyed. He inhaled the smoke and soon choke on it, coughing heavily, causing a wave of laugher in the room. He looked painfully at the Nazi, who nodded encouraging him to inhale more. He reluctantly obeyed and coughed another few times, but after a while, his lungs got used to it and soon were full of opium. The living room grew silent as everybody savored the wonderful effects of the drug.

"Ah, my parents are so going to ground me." Butters said in a slurry voice, as he landed back on the couch, half laying on top of Clyde.

"Hey, check out the Jew. He's totally digging it." Craig said amused while he pointed at Kyle.

He was still sitting on the chair between the two couches, his legs spread to the sides, the violin lying against one of them. He had his head pulled back and exhaled the smoke with no hurry. A feeling of crude relaxation spread out through his whole body. His limbs felt numb, but his mind was active. The room was spinning around in an enjoyable way, colors went from unfocused to sharp and bright. Kyle surrendered completely to the pleasant effects of the drug. It was an escape from reality. He forgot all of his past, all his bad and good memories. The camp, the hard work, the cold and the dead bodies ceased from existing. Kyle released a contented giggle. It was a feeling of total freedom and he embraced it desperately.

"You're quite enjoying yourself, Kahl. And thinking you wanted to let it pass." Herr Cartman accused. Kyle lifted his head a bit to look at the Nazi. He drew an unfamiliar mischievous grin and leaned over, so his face was close to the Nazi's. Herr Cartman saw the blur of euphoria in the green eyes and knew, whatever was coming out of that mouth, was a result of the drug.

"Well, I have reasons to be wary, fatass. Usually, when you offer me something, it's _rotten_." Kyle said in a secretive tone.

He gave the Nazi quite an audacious look and a grin Herr Cartman would categorize as flirty. The Nazi let out an amused chuckle, not even bothering with the insult the redhead had come up with. He should have known Kyle had figured out he was the one depositing the decomposed corpses in the fields. He watched as the Jew leaned back, his gaze still on him, giving him an accomplice look. And at that moment, Herr Cartman felt all barriers that existed between them dissipate. During the day, they were enemies, one race subduing the other. During the day, they lived in two contrasting different words. But right now, under the influence of opium, they were friends and partners in crime. They were the same.

…

Kyle couldn't remember how he ended up lying down on the couch with Bebe on top of him. All he knew was that, right now, she was indulging him with gentle electrifying kisses on his neck, under his chin, on his lips. He surrendered completely to pleasure when their tongues met. His mind had already lost all grip of reality. All Kyle lived now, were the urges his drugged mind sent to his body. He inhaled Bebe's sweet perfume, caressed her hair, and slid his hands down her back. The passion and heat increased by the minute and Kyle protested with a groan when Bebe broke the kiss.

"Did you have a girlfriend before you came to the camp?" She asked with a whisper in his ear, making Kyle shiver from the feeling.

"Uhm, not really." He lazily spoke. "I had once a girlfriend, long ago…Rebecca was her name. Turned out to be a total whore." He widened his unfocussed eyes when he heard some laughter nearby. Craig and Herr Cartman, who were the only ones to demonstrate some resistance to the drug (Clyde and Butters were already snoring for a while), were watching the scene with interest.

"Did you ever make love to a girl?" Bebe asked again with a soft whisper and Kyle shook his head. Bebe grinned widely, while she slip her hands under Kyle's shirt, making him flinch at the touch, his body's temperature rising fervently.

"Guess we have a virgin in the house!" Craig said with a predator glint in his eyes. Herr Cartman chuckled at the comment. He was hypnotized by Kyle's natural responses to Bebe's advances.

The Jew had allowed Bebe to dispose of his is blazer, waistcoat and tie, which laid forgotten on the floor. His shirt was half way unbuttoned and his red curls were in a mess. His eyes were unfocussed and his cheeks rosy. Bebe kissed him with more passion, which was eagerly corresponded. Both emitted small excited noises and breathed heavily as their bodies asked for more than gentle caresses. Somewhere in the mist of his fuzzy thoughts, Kyle knew this was wrong. He knew there was a public watching him making out with this gorgeous girl. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him to stop. But the alcohol and drugs had consumed too much of his mind and the warnings dissipated like the morning haze when he felt fingers grasp firmly around his cock. He gasped shocked and marveled at the same time. He closed his eyes, pulled his head back and allowed pleasure invade his body as the wet warmness of Bebe's mouth caressed his member in ways he didn't think were possible.

"Check out, Cartman." Craig said, his eyes dark from lust. "Not a child anymore."

The fat Nazi shifted on the couch uncomfortably, the images unfolding before his eyes making his own dick grow under his pants. He cursed internally, hating the Jew for looking so hot. Kyle's eyes were shut tight, his lips slightly departed, breathing deep and releasing once in a while a cute moan or groan. His left hand's fingers were digging in the couch, while his right hand rested on Bebe's head, guiding her to suck him more vigorously. It was the most perfect erotic sight Herr Cartman could possibly imagine.

The pleasure and pressure were built up to an unbearable point until Kyle let out a louder groan, while his whole body shuddered at the overwhelming pleasure that spread over it. He heard laughter in the background, the zipping up of his pants and Bebe's voice telling him he tasted like milk and honey. She laid on top on him and their eyes met for mere seconds. Kyle's eyelids were too heavy and he couldn't keep them open any longer. He zoned out and entered a light sleep, listening to the voices of Craig and Herr Cartman in the distance.

Their words slowly sunk like poison in his half unconscious mind, producing images that could only come from Hell.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_I was gladly informed by some reviewers (first version of this story), the most popular drug during the World War II, which use was stimulated by the Nazi, was a one composed by__ methamphetamine__ (to bring soldiers in a euphoric state). Yet, this did not looked like a fitting drug for Cartman to use in such an "upper class" soiree. Since crack wasn't discovered yet (which I used in the original version), I accepted the suggestion of reviewers and opted to change it to opium. It does seem more fitting to the personality of Cartman. The reviews I received in the original story were crucial for this chapter, so I could correct some serious historical inconsistencies. Thank you so much!_**


	9. No snow

**_Note: In the first half of the chapter, the parts written in "_**_Itallic_**_" are the description of what Kyle sees in his dream. The non-itallic text, thus current lettertype, is the dialogue that is actually going on, in the present._**

**_I personally find this chapter highly distressing._**

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

_In a strange dream, Kyle sees nothing but blackness._

_In this world of void, he hears two voices. _

_One familiar, the other not. _

"Any chance your father would open a vacancy in Sobibor*, soon?" The familiar but unfriendly voice speaks.

"Why do you keep insisting in being transferred there?" The unfamiliar voice asks. It sounds bored.

_Out of nowhere, small white flakes rise in the blackness. They slowly climb in a soft dance, like if they were lifted by a gentle breeze. The flakes are few at first, but soon grow in number. White dancing dots paint the hollow blackness._

"You know very well why! Who presented the plan for the Final Solution of the Jewish race at the Waanse Conference**? Who inspired Herr Reinhard to build the extermination camps? Who came up with the idea of camouflaging everything so nobody would suspect what was going on? Me! I did! It's my dawn right to go to Sobibor!" Kyle frowned in his sleep. It was the authoritative voice he so much hated, so much avoided, so much feared. "I want to be there, Craig. And see with my own eyes. The Jews arrive in great masses. I want to see their scared faces…"

The voice echoed in Kyle's head

"_I want to see their scared faces…"_

And became part of his dream.

…_scared faces…_

_Kyle watches as the blackness is filled completely by the flakes until everything is white. Suddenly, he feels his body go under and he gently travels downwards, while the flakes fly the opposite direction. He still hears the odious voice echoing in the background. He lands smoothly on the floor. It's white from the flakes, but he realizes it's no snow._

"I want to see their faces when they step out the trains…"

_Kyle watches a long grey train with cargo wagons come in his direction and stop right opposite him. He looks around and there is no station. Actually, there is nothing around him. Not one single tree. Not one single bird or living creature. Only open fields in a barren land covered by the strange white flakes. Out of nowhere, tall soldiers, dressed in black thick woolen coats, march to the train and open the wagons. Terrified people of all ages are pulled out of the wagons and, suddenly, it all looks very familiar. _

_The white flakes are still falling. _

_Falling from the sky. _

_But it's no snow. _

"…I want to see the hope die in their eyes, when women and men are guided in different directions_._ When they are guided to their doom…_" _

_Kyle sees the soldiers open their mouths screaming, shouting and yelling. But he hears nothing. Only the echo of the hateful voice. The families are separated. The mothers that struggle and hold on to their little boys, receive a violent blow from the back of a rifle. They fall down with their bodies on the strange white flakes, in pain and disoriented. The children are taken away, while the mothers are dragged back to the mass of women._

"…I want to see the look on their faces when they know, even though they were separated, they will go to the same place. They will suffer the same fate…"

_White flakes fly above a mass of men walking diligently. There are dozens and dozens of David starts being guided by a hand full of Swastikas. Some scream and cry of despair, others are silenced by desolation. Those who fight or try to run away are shot right at the spot. _

_The red blood of the innocent mingles with the white floor._

"…I want to see the factories of death.._._"

_The white flakes dance in the wind against a dark red background._

_Kyle watches the mass of men head towards a large grey building. It has tall chimneys. Instead of black smoke, it's the white flakes that comes out of them._

"…I want to see them be shaved of their big curly black locks, I want to see them being stripped naked and sent to the showers_…_"

_Kyle's eyes follow the scared men. Naked. Bald. Young. Old. Little teary boys clinging to the bodies of their daddies. They are pushed into a large room, but not large enough for them. The males are all packed up. Naked bodies shivering of fear against each other. The room looks like the interior of an empty warehouse, with the oddity of having showers attached to the ceiling. The lights go off. There are gasps and small cries. There are whispers of prayers. There are whispers of fathers telling their sons soon it all will be over. They fear of what's coming next._ _They know what's coming next._

"…I want to hear their screams of agony…"

_The showers are opened. But no water comes out of them. Instead, it's some kind of steam. Its smell is intoxicating. Screams of horror fill the room. The men gasp for air but instead they choke in it. They call for help. They beg for God to save them. _

_But today God is not here_.

"…and scream until the last voice fades away and all that remains is silence."

_They are dead. _

_All of them are dead. _

_Their eyes are widened, their mouths open. Hands holding hands, the memory of their last moments in Earth. The doors are opened again. One by one the bodies are removed and transported into a large truck. It brings the bodies to the factory with great ovens of large yellow flames. The bodies are thrown into the wild fire. Human flesh is consumed by angry flames. They burn until there is nothing but ashes. _

_White ashes flying against a red sky. _

Kyle's eyes opened widely. He woke up with a startle, cold sweat drops on his forehead, hot tears in the corners of his eyes. His chest rose and fell quickly from his fast breathing. He casted his eyes down and saw Bebe lying unconscious on top of him. Everybody was sleeping, except for Herr Cartman and another boy, whose name he could not remember. They didn't notice him waking up.

"Cartman, Sobibor is just an extermination camp. Its concentration camp is small and nothing compared to Dachau's. It's isolated and far from everything. The weather over there is much extremer, much colder and bitter. There is nothing out there for you to find. Only gas chambers and death. You are much better off in Dachau." The black haired boy tried to change the other boy's mind.

"You just don't get it, do you?" The fat Nazi spoke upset. "It was my idea! My plan! It's my right to be there and listen to their crying while they choke in the poisoned air!" Herr Cartman yelled outraged, sending chills down Kyle's spine.

"Okay, Cartman. I can see this is very important to you. I'll talk to my father. I'll do my best to convince him to transfer you to Sobibor. I did manage to convince him in building those gas chambers here in Dachau***, after all."

"Yes, you did, Craig. Yes, you did." Herr Cartman said with a triumphant smile.

By now, Kyle was feeling really sick. His mind still played the dream's images of the crowd of Jewish men walking to their condemnation. His thoughts were spinning around and around. _Fake showers. Gas chambers. Poisoned air_. Kyle desperately gasped, but the thick presence of opium in the air made him choke. He felt dizzy and started panicking. In his mind he was with the men under the lethal showers. They had their mouths open. And the more they tried to breathe, the more they inhaled the deadly gas. Struggling to breathe, Kyle truly believed, he was in that room too, choking his life away. _They already poisoned me!_ He thought desperate and sat up urgently, his hand around his neck, taking great gasps of air, inhaling more and more opium. He coughed painfully and only then did the two boys notice he was awake. Bebe flinched a bit on top of him and mumbled something uncomprehending in her sleep. Kyle, struggled to get from under her and stood up.

The moment his feet touched the floor, his legs gave away. His whole body still felt numb and, although his vivid dream had awoken his brains momentarily, his mind was already being slackened by the drug. With trembling legs, he slowly stood up and looked around. Everything was blurry. He saw the unclear image of Herr Cartman and the other boy walking to him.

"Kahl? What's wrong Kahl?" Herr Cartman asked but Kyle could not understand his words.

"He doesn't look all that well." Craig said, while he rested his hand on the Jew's shoulder. Kyle panicked. He slapped his hand away and took a step backwards, terror all spread on his paled features.

"Stay away from me!" Kyle slurred while he tried to find back the balance in his legs. He needed to run away. To get as far away of this strange circle of Nazis. "Stay away from me, fucking Nazis!" He said with a stronger voice and headed to the door. He could barely walk, his legs too heavy and weak. He lost all coordination and stumbled on the chair he had sat before, so he nearly fell down for a second time. "I have to get out." He nervously whispered.

"What's his problem?" Craig asked confused.

"I don't know, I think maybe he had too much opium." Herr Cartman said. He watched the Jew open the door and stumble away. "Stay here. I'll see what's the matter with the damn kike."

Herr Cartman walked calmly to the door. He was surprised to see that Kyle was gone by the time he got there. How had the Jew moved so quickly, when a moment ago he barely could walk, puzzled him. He looked at both sides of the corridor and opened the nearest doors. Nothing. It was like if the damn Jew had disappeared into thin air. Suddenly he felt a cold wind sweep through his body. He turned right on the corridor, and made a short run to the entrance hall. The door was wide open and outside it was windy and snowing. Herr Cartman wrapped his arms around his body, when he felt the freezing air and cursed. _Fucking Jew! He's getting himself dead in this cold._ He stepped outside and looked around. _Dawn, it's so fucking dark! I can't see a thing!"_

"Kahl? Kahl? Where are you?" He called a few times, while he stepped outside. Suddenly he saw something moving in the dark. He ran on the snow and soon reached Kyle, who was still stumbling disoriented. He grabbed Kyle's arm and turned him around. "Fuck, Jew! What do you think you're doing?"

"Stay away from me!" Kyle yelled still panicked.

"Kahl, Listen to me! You need to go back inside. You'll freeze to death out here!" Herr Cartman said, while he tried to put some sense into the Jew's head.

"Like if you cared!" Kyle furiously spat. "And my name is Kyle! Ky-le! Not Kahl!"

"Okay, Ky-le. Now come back inside, I won't hurt you." Herr Cartman said in a sweet voice, while Kyle gave him a wary look. _I should bloody turn your neck, you asshole!_ The fat Nazi thought. But instead he loosened his grip on the boy's shoulder, demonstrating he wouldn't hurt him. "I won't harm you, I promise. I just want to go back inside and drink something warm, okay? Would you like to drink something warm, Ky-le?" The red haired boy, who was by now losing the feeling in his fingers nodded.

"I could do with a warm drink." Kyle consented and allowed Herr Cartman's heavy hand rest on his back, while he guided him back to the house. The redhead watched the white flakes whirl under the entrance's door light and softly murmured. "It's no snow."

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_* Sobibor: Extermination Camp in Poland._**

**_**_ _The __Wannsee Conference was held on __t__he 20__th__ January 1942. SS official Reinhard Heydrich held a meeting of Nazi government officials to present the Final Solution and __became__ its__chief executor. His plan was called__Aktion Reinhard and had as goal the transport and destruction of all 11 million Jews of Europe. This was the largest single massacre action of the Holocaust. It lasted 21 months, from March 1942 to November 1943. New camps (Extermination Camp or Death Camp) were specially created for genocide (in opposition with Concentration Camp or Labor Camp, they were actually prisons) for the sole purpose of killing off the following racial groups: Jews, Russian prisoners of war, and Gypsies (Sinti-Roma). Their long-range plans, unrealized, included targeting some 30 million Slavs for death._**

**_Six Death or Extermination Camps were constructed in Poland. These so-called death factories were Auschwitz-Birkenau, Treblinka, Belzec , Sobibór, Lublin (also called Majdanek ), and Chelmno . The primary purpose of these camps was the methodical killing of millions of innocent people. There was no selection process; Jews were destroyed upon arrival. The first, Chelmno, began operating in late 1941. The others began their operations in 1942._**

**_***On July 1942, the construction of 5 gas chambers in Dachau camp was ordered. They were completed in 1943. Only 1 out of the 5 chambers was used for extermination causes. It was only used once, during a typhus epidemic in 1944-1945._**


	10. Sex on fire

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Herr Cartman guided Kyle to the kitchens.

He put some hot water on a pan and when it was boiling, he put the gas off and added some dry leaves.

"What's this?" Kyle asked, while the Nazi handed him a mug with the liquid.

"Green tea." He merely stated. Herr Cartman exited the kitchen to soon return with a bottle of whiskey. He poured some into a glass and drank while eying the Jew. "What was that all about, anyway?" Kyle took a sip of the tea and looked at the Nazi. His head was spinning and the world was again a blur of sensations, where colors and scents became intensified. The effects of the opium didn't seem to want to wear off that soon.

"I dreamed that I…that I was in Hell." Kyle said in sheer realization. He still could see the white flakes in front of his eyes. The slow sad march to death. The bodies burning. He hastily drunk the rest of the tea, but it offered no comfort. He stared remorsefully at the bottom of his empty mug.

"Well, I guess after such a nightmare, whiskey is more welcome than tea." The Nazi said, while he poured some whiskey in the Jew's mug. Kyle desperately drank it in one shot and then shook the mug in front of Herr Cartman, his head bent down in defeat. The Nazi was a bit surprised but consented with an amused chuckle and poured some more whiskey. This time Kyle drank it slowly. Silence filled the kitchen. The fat Nazi stared at the red haired boy and noticed his lost and tortured look. He gave a heavy sigh. "I must confess…" Herr Cartman uneasily started. Maybe it was the whiskey talking for him. "…I'm happy I have you over tonight." Or maybe the words just needed to be spoken.

"So am I." Kyle whispered with a small smile, his eyes never leaving his mug. Despite the horrible nightmare and his drugged state, the redhead was still aware he was in a pleasanter place than barrack D34. Herr Cartman smiled too, but shook it off quickly. He was sure the alcohol was finally affecting his brains. The Jew looked really temping right now and the Nazi decided it was time to go back to the living room, before he would do something really stupid.

"Come. Let's join the others. They might want to listen to some more music." The Nazi ordered and Kyle followed him, walking only half balanced.

They switched curious looks when they reached the living room's door and heard strange sounds coming from inside. Herr Cartman, already suspecting what was going on, opened the door nevertheless. Kyle froze at sight while the Nazi groaned annoyed. Clyde and Bebe were doing it on the couch while Craig watched them with a grin. He sat on the opposite couch, Butters lying next to him, still sleeping soundly. Clyde was partially undressed, but Bebe was bare skin and she moaned delightfully while her lover banged her with voracity. Herr Cartman closed the door again, looking upset.

"Ay! It's every fucking time the same shit!" He complained while he turned to face Kyle. The Jew had his eyes still widened from the shock. He was completely flushed and his lips seemed to want to say something, but didn't find the words. Herr Cartman grimaced. After seeing those vivid images and now looking at that beautiful face, the Nazi knew he couldn't resist any longer. "Come Jew, I don't think they need our company anymore." He said while he guided Kyle along the corridor. He opened his office door and Kyle entered it, still walking unbalanced and still wearing a look of shock on his face.

"Are Clyde and Bebe…?"Kyle asked while he entered, feeling absolutely confused.

"Yes, they are a couple. Have been for quite some time, already." Herr Cartman said while he closed the door and locked it. "Bebe just likes to play with other guys, once in a while."

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked when he saw the Nazi turn the key.

"I don't want anybody to disturb us." Herr Cartman casually said, while he gave the Jew a hungry look. Kyle's heart started racing. His brains seemed to want to tell him something about not being safe, but his mind was still sluggish. Nevertheless, he took a few steps backwards, while the Nazi walked slowly closer to him. "Herr Cartman?" Kyle asked unsure when his back hit the bookshelf.

He had spoken in such a meek voice, that it triggered the other boy. The Nazi put his right hand behind Kyle's head and forced his lips on the Jew's. Kyle's eyes widened greatly and he made a protesting sound, while the other tried to force his tongue inside his mouth. But Kyle was shocked and had his teeth gritted, denying any passage. Frustrated, Herr Cartman pulled Kyle's head back, grabbing him by the hair. When the Jew opened his mouth to scream from pain, the Nazi invaded his mouth. Herr Cartman pressed his body against Kyle's, so he was trapped. He wrapped his fat fingers around the Jew's wrists, stopping his squirming, while his tongue ravished the redhead's mouth. Kyle released another protest sound, but it was muffed by the violent kiss. After a while, Herr Cartman broke the kiss, and Kyle stared at him bewildered.

"What the fuck?" The Jew shouted shocked, confused, infuriated. Herr Cartman placed his hand on his neck, his fat fingers pressuring his skin, just under the chin.

"Kiss me back, Jew!" He angrily ordered and could see the incensed look the other's face. The Nazi crushed his lips against the Jew's again. Kyle gasped and received a nibble on his bottom lip. "Kiss me back." The ordered again, but this time it sounded almost like a plea.

Their eyes were momentarily locked. Herr Cartman read the confusion and shock in the green ones, but no fear, never any fear. He gently licked Kyle's under lip and nibbled it another couple times. Then he pressed his tongue against Kyle's teeth. The Jew, not wanting to disobey the Nazi, opened his mouth and allowed the tongue to enter. Like he was ordered he corresponded the kiss by touching the other's tongue hesitantly. Herr Cartman satisfied with his submissive behavior, pushed himself closer and deeper into his mouth. Kyle opened his mouth a bit wider and the Nazi moaned pleased. Kyle kissed back hesitantly for a while, but meanwhile, he felt his body temperature involuntarily rise. At a certain point, his tongue started acting by its own accord. Kyle's mind became fuzzier by the minute. Soon they were engaging in a hungry kiss, the taste of their saliva maddening them, just like the warmth of their mouths. A part of Kyle's brain urged to tell him this was wrong. It told him he shouldn't be kissing another guy. He shouldn't be enjoying it. Especially if that other guy was Herr Cartman. But another part of his brain told him he didn't care. It told him he was liking the kissing. He was enjoying tasting the evil Nazi. And that part of his brain was quickly winning ground. They broke the kiss, gasped for air and stared at each other. Both switched surprised looks, shocked at their own actions and growing desire.

"Shit. You are enjoying this." Herr Cartman said genuinely surprised, while he looked at the Jew, who stared back at him in a mix of angry embarrassment and nervous lust. The Nazi gave shorter hungry kisses and stopped to contemplate the face of his unexpected lover. He had rosy cheeks and his swollen lips were departed, breathing heavily. His eyes stared back expectant, desire filling the depths of the forest green. The Nazi felt all his blood concentrate in his crouch, thinking he never had seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He violently ripped off Kyle's shit, buttons flying through the office. He pushed Kyle away from the bookshelf to the leather couch he used to receive guests. The Jew fell on his back and Herr Cartman climbed on the couch to bend over Kyle. He stared at the startled Jew with a malicious smile. "I am so gonna fuck your brains out."

Kyle knew he should had found the words frightening, but instead they excited him. Herr Cartman, ripped the rest of the shirt off, so the Jew was bare chest. He kissed, licked, nibbled and bit Kyle's skin, from his neck, to his nipples, down to his belly. Kyle panted wildly, all these sensations being entirely new for him and being intensified by his still drugged state of mind. He let small pleasurable moans and small painful groans escape his throat, which drove the Nazi mad. Herr Cartman's erection was starting to pain him, so he quickly removed the Jews pants and underwear, throwing the clothing on the floor. Kyle released a small yelp at the action and suddenly was very aware of his nudity under the stare of this hungry Nazi. He released a louder yell when the Nazi gripped his penis with his strong fingers.

"You're only half hard." Herr Cartman said disapprovingly. "And thinking you gave your full load to Bebe. That bitch! Oh well, I'll blame it on the drugs." The Nazi released Kyle's genital, who gasped relieved. But it was short lived, for the Jew flinched with another yelp when Herr Cartman inserted his index in his ass opening.

"What are you doing?!" The Jew asked confused, truly not understanding what was going on. Why was the finger intruding a part of his body created only for outgoing?

"How else will I fuck you?" Herr Cartman whispered venomously in his ear, while he inserted a second finger, resulting in a loud painful grunt. "I could use your pretty mouth, but I somehow have the feeling this way is going to be much more fun." He moved the two fingers in and out, causing a series of protesting groans from Kyle, which aroused the Nazi's excitement. He cursed under his breath, knowing the Jew wasn't fully prepared, but his walls felt so tight around his fingers, he couldn't hold it back anymore. He inserted his large and hardened genital inside the Jew's body, causing a loud yell of pain. "Ah, you're so tight… Shit, you feel so fucking good!"

"Ahg! It hurts!" Kyle screamed, while he pulled his head back and shut his teary eyes tightly.

"Your fault Jew!" Herr Cartman said with a grunt while he thrust his cock all the way inside the other's body. "You shouldn't be this fucking hot!"

Kyle gasped at the burning feeling of his small opening being forcefully open to allow passage to the thick erection. He bit his under lip from pain when he felt the hardened genital pull out a bit. Then it was pushed all the way back inside and Kyle released another scream of pain. And another and another. Herr Cartman pounded violently and smirked when he saw blood drip from the anus. He removed his cock and painted its purple head with the red blood. He inserted it at the opening, wetting its walls. He looked at Kyle, who bore a pained expression on his face. He obviously wasn't enjoying the sex, which annoyed Herr Cartman a bit.

The Nazi decided he could care less. He wet his lips with his tongue and pushed his erection again all the way up Kyle's ass. He watched, with sadistic pleasure, the Jew pull his head back, open his mouth, while another painful scream filled the room. He moved a bit out to push right back inside, this time hitting a spongy area. Kyle whimpered at the sensation and widened his eyes greatly, while a surprised "oh" escaped his lips. Herr Cartman smirked contented. He had found the boy's prostate. He searched for the sensible spot, brushed it, hit it with force and watched transfixed at the Jew's reaction. Each time he hit the prostate, his touch vibrated pleasure chills through Kyle's body, making him release moans of delighted pleasure. Herr Cartman kissed him madly, his tongue moving as wildly as his hips. He released a satisfied grunt when Kyle's body started moving rhythmically with his, engaging in a perfect synchronized dance.

"Ah…You're…fucking good…for a …Uhg...fucking virgin!" Herr Cartman said between groans, while he banged and pounded as wildly as he could. Kyle surrendered to the marvelous feeling the ass pounding did to his body. The excitement grew unbearably and his need quickly matched the Nazi's. Kyle lost his mind and uttered painful pleasurable moans and grunts. The Nazi fastened his speed and watched the Jew's body jerk at each powerful thrust. "Ah…You're enjoying…aren't you?" Herr Cartman asked, feeling powerful and proud by the way he succeeded in making Kyle horny. "Answer me!"

"Arg! Ah!...yes!" Kyle answered with a strangled voice. Never in his life did he ever dream this kind of pleasure existed. His mind was dead. He could not think. He didn't want to think. All he wanted was to feel. Feel the heat inside his body. Feel the sharp pain that sent him shivering of pleasure. Feel the nasty taste of whisky and cruelty. He more the Nazi hurt him, the more he needed him. The more pain he caused, the more pleasure he felt.

"You're _my_ Jew!" Herr Cartman whispered possessively in Kyle's ear, sending new electrifying pleasures down his spine. "Don't you ever forget that!"

With these words, Herr Cartman pounded madly, sensing the orgasm was imminent. Their bodies practically jumped on the couch, from the energetic impulses their hips produced. Their foreheads were dripping on sweat, their faces flushed. Kyle dug his nails on the Nazi's back, scratching his skin until it bled and mingled with the salty sweat. While their bodies moved frantically, they produced loud noises of crude pleasure. When Kyle thought his body was going to be ripped in half and he would die from sheer enjoyment, an indescribable wave of pleasure flooded his body, making him release a series of loud moans. Herr Catman watched the Jew come under him and gritted his teeth as he too felt his release drive him insane and, with a grunt, his genital jerked and spilt his milk inside of Kyle. He collapsed on top of the Jew.

They remained a long while laying without moving. Limbs numb and hanging to the side of the couch. Their mouths open, panting heavily. Their hearts pumping the blood fast, but gradually returning them to their normal rhythm. Kyle's head was spinning, his back was aching and his ass was sore. But it had all been worth-while. Never in his life had he ever experienced anything this good. He sighed satisfied and Herr Cartman lifted his head to look at _his_ Jew. He had his eyes closed, his curls were a mess, his cheeks were still rosy and the soft smile on his lips slowly faded as weariness swept over his worn-out body. The Nazi knew the boy was falling asleep, but felt himself too awake.

He carefully stood up and looked upon the sleeping boy. He thought Kyle was too good to be real. Which was the truth. Because Kyle was really too good to be real. He was a Jew. A filthy, money greedy, immoral and deceitful Jew. But none of these words he always associated to the Jewish people matched this redhead. Carefully, he cleaned Kyle's body from the blood and semen. Afterwards he gently covered him with a blanket. None of things he ever learned, believed and preached about Jews matched this boy.

And this worried him.

Greatly.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_Of course you were right when you thought the chapter's title was borrowed from Kings of Leon!_**


	11. Grieving

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Herr Cartman didn't sleep the rest of the night.

He sat behind of his desk at his office, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure of the most unlikely Jew he has ever met. He turned his head when he sensed the daylight softly greet him through the office's window. Soon the rollcall would start. But the Jew would miss it today. Herr Cartman didn't have the heart to wake him up, when he looked this peaceful. Besides, he knew he could never send him away before his guests would leave. It would give a too bad impression.

There was a soft knock on the door. Herr Cartman unlocked it and saw Alfred's interrogative look. He never locked the door. The butler asked if he wanted breakfast to be served and the Nazi ordered his to the office. The table in the dining room would be prepared for the guests, so when they would wake up, they could eat at ease.

"Warn me when they are up." Alfred bowed at the order and was about to leave when he turned around.

"My lord, should I bring a new shirt for the violinist?" Herr Cartman looked behind him and saw the shredded shirt on the floor, lying next to the couch. He felt his face go red and nodded unable to speak. He felt too embarrassed and was glad the butler was a discrete man.

It was only an hour later, when Kyle slowly stretched his body and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, not recognizing the surroundings. Suddenly he sat up startled. His face twisted slightly at the sore sensation when he sat up and all the last night's images returned to his mind. A dreadful sensation swept all over his body as he realized what had happened.

"Good morning Jew." A cold voice greeted him. Kyle turned bewildered at the source of the voice. "Please clean yourself with that water over there and get dressed. Last thing I need is you running around naked in meh house." The Nazi nonchalantly said while he nibbled some bread.

Kyle glanced awkwardly at the SS. He hesitated, noticing he was fully naked and had nothing to cover himself with. So he grudgingly obeyed. He tried to ignore the horrible feeling of being closely watched. His nudity made him feel too exposed under the Nazi's gaze. He quickly paced to the basin with cold water and cleaned himself with his back to Herr Cartman. Kyle grabbed the soap with trembling hands, as a nauseous feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. He scrubbed his skin harder than needed, wishing to wipe the memory of the Nazi's touch and scent off his body. Kyle fought back the tears. As much as he scrubbed his skin, it remained unclean. The dirty feeling wouldn't go away. Kyle felt disgusted by himself, for allowing the other one do whatever he wanted with his body. For wanting the Nazi to touch him. For enjoying it fully. His head was throbbing and his insides turning around. The images of last night's heated moments were still too vivid and Kyle didn't recognize himself in them. He had acted like an animal, like a lust-thirsty beast. He had lost his virginity in the most mindless passionate manner and to the person he most hated in the world. Shaking from the overpowering emotions that tormented his soul, Kyle dressed himself up and sighed, only slightly relieved, for having clothes covering his unholy skin.

"Eat something. I'm going to see if the others are already up." The fat Nazi spoke with a distant voice and didn't even look at him. He simply stood up and exited the room.

Kyle stood in the middle of the office, looking lost. His eyes were on the door that had been just shut. He could feel shivers travelling his body. He could feel his nails dig his hand's skin. His eyes stung and were watery. If hours ago the Nazi acted wildly passionate, he was now his icy cold self again. And this fact alone, was what made Kyle stand in the brink of tears. It was his apathetic voice, his distant attitude, which made him feel used, dirty, disposable.

As tasty as the food looked, he was unable to eat. Instead, he left the office and stumbled painfully along the corridor, opening door after door, until he found a toilet. He entered it panting and locked the door behind him with shaky fingers. He could feel the tears wanting to escape, but he kept fighting them back. Just like the nauseous feeling in his stomach. After long minutes of agony, Kyle finally gave up. He fell to his knees and threw up yesterday's contents in the toilet, while tears cascaded freely. He let a miserable moan escape his lips, sobbed inconsolably and then threw up again.

Herr Cartman stood behind the door, listening to the painful sounds of vomiting, followed by soft weeping. He closed his eyes in pain. He knew things would never be the same again. He knew the Jew's suffering would never please him like it used to. And for this, he wished last night had never happened. When he opened his eyes with a sigh, he saw Alfred walking in his direction. He straightened his back, trying to hide his distress.

"The guests are already having breakfast, sir." The butler announced.

"Good. Good." Herr Cartman said a bit absentminded, clearing his throat. "I'm joining them, then…" Another awful sound of vomiting was heard behind the door. "Ehm…The Jew…he's not feeling too well. Must have been something he ate yesterday." He lied, unable to face the butler in the eye (he was suddenly very interested in one of the paintings hanging on the wall).

"I'll see to him that he takes a calming tea for the stomach." Alfred kindly said, knowing perfectly well what was going on. Without adding another word, Herr Cartman walked away.

He joined his guests and behaved in his fake sweet and cheerful manner. Butters had a horrible hangover, Clyde and Bebe were pale and had rings under their eyes. Craig was the only one of the lot that actually looked healthy.

"Hey Cartman. Where's Kyle?" Craig asked with a knowingly look. The Nazi had the urge to punch the black haired boy in the face for just putting out the question. Instead he grinned.

"Is having a hangover similar to Butters." He said, while the blond moaned afflicted.

"But he will come and say goodbye, won't he?" Bebe asked concerned.

"Of course, of course." Herr Cartman said with a wave. "He's just not eating with us…I mean, pfffff... He's a Jew." He said with a chuckle while he cursed internally. _A Jew with who I had the best fuck of my life!_ His stomach sunk when he realized he had to send Kyle back to the camp after his friends were gone. And while the food tasted like ashes in his mouth, Herr Cartman continued acting as the perfect merry host.

Meanwhile, Kyle was back in the office drinking a smoothing tea, far away from the sight of any other staff in the house. He refused to sit on the leather couch and sat instead on an ordinary wooden chair. Alfred had insisted he needed to eat to keep his strength. So he forced himself to eat, because this could very well be the last time he would have a decent meal. He wished he could sneak some bread with him to give to his father and brother. He sighed feeling miserable. Yesterday he had the time of his life. He had a glimpse of his old life and of a lifestyle he would never have. And he wished he hadn't. Because, and in addition of feeling hollow because of the Nazi; he was reminded of how life should be. He had lived so long hidden in a small cramped attic and afterwards in the camp, that he had forgotten how natural it was to have all the little comforts and basic needs in the reach of a hand. He got to taste life again, but now it was being taken right back from him. Kyle could not imagine a worse kind of torture.

...

Kyle and Herr Cartman watched the two cars drive away in the snow. It had been a rather warm goodbye and Kyle succeeded in hiding his general grief. But now he stared at the end of the street with a heavy heart and waited for the words to be spoken. He heard Herr Cartman call Alfred. His uniform was returned. How he wished he was living a nightmare and would soon wake up, safe back home, in his warm bed. But this was reality. And soon he was following Herr Cartman in the snow, dressed in his thin and dirty uniform. They walked silently. Not one single word had seen switched. Suddenly, the Nazi stopped and turned around. Kyle stopped too and had his head down, according to the rules.

It was awkward, for both of them. To stand in the snow, opposite each other. The Nazi and the Jew. Two opposite races. One superior, the other submissive. One was to dominate the world, the other was to disappear from the face of the Earth. And yet, just hours ago, foes became lovers, became unity, became perfection. The impossible had happened.

"Yesterday never happened. Just wipe it out of your memory, Jew." Herr Cartman said in the coldest possible manner and tried to believe Kyle was shivering only from the icy wind. He could see how his hands were balled up in fists. He could see his mouth contort from anger. Herr Cartman called a soldier and instructed him to lead Kyle to the barracks. And without adding another word, the fat Nazi left. He didn't even glance at the Jew. He simply marched away, without ever looking back. But with each step he took further from Kyle, Herr Cartman felt a little bit of himself die away.

…

When Kyle reached the barracks, feeling heavy and numb, he could already see the line for lunch. He was so used to stand on the line every day that he never had realized how depressive and ridiculously degrading this vision was. A long row of breathing skeletons with skin. Lifeless faces with deep and hollow eye sockets. They moved slowly with little energy. And received just enough sustenance to recover some of the worn-out energy. Kyle listened the soldier give him his last instruction written on paper by Herr Cartman. After lunch he would return to his work and fetch bodies in the female section. Kyle walked towards the end of the line and looked upon the many nameless faces. And wondered, how many would die in the camp and how many would live to die in gas chambers.

"Kyle!" His eyes darted to the far end of the line. He saw his father waving and his little brother was already running to him. He smiled happily and a new wave of warmth filled his heart. He caught Ike in the air, for the little boy threw himself on his brother. Laughing heartily, Kyle carried him to the end of the line to meet his father.

"Oh my son, where have you been? I was so worried about you." Gerald Broflovski said while he cupped his hands on his son's pale face.

"You'll never believe." Kyle said with a smile and with an enthusiastic voice. But his father could already read the pain in his eyes. "I got to play the violin all night long at Herr Cartman's condominium. You see, he had this party arranged and his musician injured himself so… I don't know how, but he had my violin and discovered I was its owner. That's how I got there."

"I told him it was you!" Ike innocently said. "He came yesterday in the fields asking for the violin's owner." Kyle looked shocked at his brother. "I bet you had a lot of fun!"

"Ike, never ever do that again!" Kyle said frightened at his brother's imprudence and stared at his father with a look of disbelief.

"I already talked to him. Hopefully things are clear to him, now." The man said with a disapproving tone and Ike looked annoyed but nodded.

Kyle spent the little time they had for lunch, answering Ike's many questions about the soiree. His words were careful and well chosen, omitting everything related to the alcohol, drugs and sex. He sounded cheerful while he talked with his brother, but his father was no fool. He could hear the sadness in his undertone. So, that evening, before going to bed, he confronted his eldest son. They sat at a corner of the common room so they had their privacy.

"Kyle, I need you to be honest with me." Gerald whispered. "Did something happen yesterday?" Kyle shook his head, but the man knew his son too well. "I can see something is bothering you." Kyle looked in his father's eyes and was in the verge of crying. He could never tell him about Herr Cartman. He could never come to know about this deadly sin.

"Do you remember the taste of butter in fresh baked bread? Or the feeling of warm water? Or the smell of perfumed soap?" Kyle asked in tears and his father sighed finally understanding what was paining his son so much. "Well, I didn't, but now I do and I-I wish I didn't. Because now everything is so much more difficult. Because I want to go back to that life and I know it will never happen!" Kyle said while he wept and his father embraced him warmly.

"Oh my son. You must not lose hope. One day this war will come to an end. One day the Nazis will lose and we will be free again." He whispered in Kyle's ear.

"You truly believe it, dad?" Kyle skeptically said.

"I need to. So I can be strong. For you. For Ike. Because I love you so much." He looked lovingly at his eldest son and kissed his forehead. "Remember what father Maxi said. Look to what you have and not what you lost." Kyle gave a weak smile and rested his head on his father's shoulder. And he wished he could do it. To be grateful with what he had. To believe there was still hope. Because he didn't. Not after what happened. Not anymore.

…

That night, Kyle cried silent tears. He had already let his sorrows flow, during the afternoon, while he wandered through the woman's fields. He had already cried, but too much hurt still remained in his chest. Kyle cried from the harsh reality the Jewish race lived in. A harsher reality than he ever had expected or dreamed of. How was he supposed to find hope in a world where it had died long ago? Kyle cried because there was no justice on Earth. He cried for God allowing a so called superior race find all kinds of ways to torture and kill His people. He cried for those he carried in his cart. He cried for those who still lived to see worse days and end up in gas chambers. But most of all, he cried from the hollow feeling in his chest.

Kyle couldn't understand what was going on with him. He couldn't understand why he had given himself physically and so willingly to the hateful Nazi. He had lingered around all kind of theories to explain why he had acted so willinly. To explain why he had embraced that physical pleasure so desperately. He tried to blame it on the opium and the alcohol. But he didn't believe in it. He tried to convince himself it was a sickened compensation for the sufferings he had undergone all these years. That he was so desperately in need of feeling good, that he allowed himself to dive into pleasure without second thought. But he doubted this was the reason behind his reckless behavior. Kyle figured out he had to be mad. There had to live some kind of crazy lusty and depraved creature inside of him. Because he knew, if he could turn back time, he would have done it again. Which only confused him the more and made him feel sicker about himself.

As days slowly passed by, the emptiness lessened equally slowly. Each day, the strange depressing became a bit more tolerable. The memory of that night started fading away, becoming more distant by the passing day. Kyle slowly started forgetting how the touches had felt electrifying, how the kisses had tasted sweet, how the physical union had felt so right. At a certain point, it was bearable enough to believe and accept it had been nothing but bodily urges, lust and desire; enticed by drug and alcohol. And slowly, he started believing the lies he kept telling himself every day. That there had never existed any kind of connection during their moments together.

Kyle never saw Herr Cartman again during the two months that followed the cursed night. He found it ridiculous and, till a certain point, disappointing (although he would never admit it) but the fat Nazi's absence did make his grieving process a bit easier. Sometimes Kyle wondered if Herr Cartman had succeeded in getting himself transferred to the extermination camp. He hoped so, because this meant he would never have to be confronted with his mistake, his carnal sin.

However his thoughts about Herr Cartman (which became less and less frequent) were always dark, a part of him knew, that deep down inside, he wished to see the fat Nazi one last time. Why? Kyle could not understand. He couldn't understand himself anymore. All he could understand was that, while nature slowly changed and days became sunnier and warmer, fields became green and flowers popped out everywhere; in camp Dachau nothing changed. It was always the same daily struggle. It was always the same depressing routine. It was everyday survival.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_Just to let you know, in the next chapter you'll get to read Herr Cartman's point of view about their one-night stand._**


	12. The selection

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Herr Cartman walked hastily away from the camp.

He needed desperately to create distance between him and the red haired Jew. He needed to avoid and look at him ever again. Otherwise, he feared he couldn't stop himself. He feared he would do anything to get this Jew back and break all rules, endangering his own career. His own safety. His own sanity.

Sending the redhead back to the camp had been the most difficult thing he ever did. He couldn't exactly explain why, but he realized there had always been something in this Jew that attracted him. And that had been quite an accomplishment. Kyle was the one and only exception. All Jews ever did was disgust, irritate and infuriate him. But this one had fascinated him from day one. Only now did Herr Cartman realize he had been doomed from the moment he looked into those beautiful green eyes. Because he had been fascinated by its color. He had been fascinated by the amount of inner-strength he had read in them. Only now did he understand that all the torture he had put Kyle through, during these harsh winter months, was his way of getting something out of the boy. He loved to watch Kyle struggle. He loved to watch him fight. And savored every triumph. Only now did Herr Cartman comprehend it had been admiration all the time. Admiration for this one Jew's persistency. His continuous fight for survival. This was reason why he always was curious instead of angry, by Kyle's small but clever tricks to make his life easier.

And then there was the soiree. How beautiful Kyle had looked. How captivating his smile was, his melodic laughter sounded, his graceful movements were while he played the violin. The fat Nazi had written his own death sentence when he decided to fuck the Jew. Because if he was fascinated before, he was now conquered. The touches, the kisses, the increasing need to be together, to be one, the soft moans and the pleasurable screams, all burned his soul. His heart cried for him, while his body craved for his. But the more Herr Cartman desired Kyle, the more he avoided him. Because what he desired was impossible.

Days passed too slowly and no news came from Craig. While Herr Cartman waited impatiently to be transferred and leave this shithole, he had the need to fill his time with all kinds of tasks to distract himself. To keep his mind occupied with other things than Kyle. Every day he would go to the working fields and cleverly avoided the red haired Jew. He projected all his anger and frustrations on the other Jews, acting even more cruelly and vilely than before. Because he was being tormented. For being so drawn to Kyle. For evading him. For longing the Jew so much. For forbidding himself to have him. And for torturing himself every day, waiting for the long hours to pass, waiting for that crappy piece of paper to come to him hands. He checked the obituary list with a racing heart and breathed from relief when one particular name wasn't written on it.

Time passed too slowly. Spring arrived. It's warm and beautiful days mocked his depressed heart. He felt like he was mourning. Often, during lonely and sleepless nights, Herr Cartman would wander alone in the house. Somehow he always ended up sitting on the leather couch in his office, holding on his lap a wooden box. He never opened it. The violin inside of it was not his to touch. The violin was to be held by nobody else but Kyle. And so, the box always ended up being devotedly returned to a corner, where it waited, patiently, to be played once again.

…

Today was selection day. Once a trimester, Herr Cartman organized this important event in which the doctor would decide if Jews were still fit to work or ready to die. Herr Cartman's presence during the selection's vigilance was crucial. Today the fat Nazi had two main goals. One, to ensure no kind of incidents were to emerge. Two, to make sure a certain Jew wouldn't be appointed to deportation.

The selection started.

Soldiers were strategically positioned. Their function was to intimidate the Jews and make sure nobody would try to resist, fight or run away. Herr Cartman had heard tales from other camps where things ended badly and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. Order had to be maintained. Herr Cartman had a clean record. And he meant to keep it that way.

The fat Nazi watched the male Jews run an invisible trajectory. He loved the selection. It was an extreme form of humiliation and intimidation lived by the powerless Jews. They were stripped of their clothes and forced to run around naked. It had rained during the night, so the ground was wet. Feet buried in the soft mud during the run, and sometimes Jews slipped on it. Each soldier that stood in the pitch, represented a point of the track, a reference for a turn and change of direction. The Jews ran diligently one after the other, repeating each other's tracks, so the invisible path was traceable. They always ended by the doctor who would glance quickly at the Jew. The few seconds of his judging gaze would determine if the Jew's life would be prolonged or extinguished. A cargo train waited for the too weakened and sick Jews to transport them to Poland, to one of the extermination camps.

Herr Cartman knew rumors had already spread among Dachau's prisoners. There were, after all, Jews that survived several selections. They knew that those sent to the left side never returned to the camp. But, what the Nazi also knew was that in was of the Human nature to refuse such a definite reality. Many preferred to believe they were sent to a different labor camp. It was easier to believe in a smoother fake reality than in a cruel real one.

At a certain point he saw a red haze run between the mass of men. His heart skipped a beat and his eyes followed the running boy all the way. He was glad to see he hadn't lost more weight and that he ran easily. He could see the boy was fit and his rosy cheeks were evidence enough for the doctor to let him live. His suspicions were confirmed. The doctor barely looked at the boy and sent him to the right side where he received a new uniform. Herr Cartman breathed of relieve and continued his surveillance more at ease. Every once in a while he would glance to Kyle's direction. He saw theJew meet a dark haired child and hug him. His little brother. The boy that denounced the violin's owner. _Not a very wise kid_, the Nazi thought to himself. His eyes darted back to the selection. All was going well and smoothly. Men were divided. Some were sent to the right, others to the left. Nobody dared to interrupt the track. Orders were simply followed. Nobody stopped to think why there was a separation. Nor its implications. Nobody really noticed the shadow of death hanging over them.

Then suddenly, there was a scream. It was not a vulgar scream. It was an expression of sheer terror, agony, despair. Herr Cartman's eyes turned back to the place he had last seen Kyle. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat. The scream had come from the redhead. Herr Cartman watched horrified as the red haired Jew ran back to the pitch, yelling "Father" on top of his lungs. There was no time to think. He needed to act quickly. So he hurried to Kyle's direction while the world seemed to move in slow motion.

Herr Cartman saw Kyle running fast. Everybody instinctively turned their heads to the source of the desperate shouting. But everybody seemed to ignore. Jews continued running, while Nazis continued guarding. A soldier managed to obstruct Kyle, pulling him back with his strong arms. But the redhead was out of his mind. Panic and hysteria had taken hold of him. So he struggled violently, while he shouted for his father. The soldier hit Kyle's back with his riffle so the boy fell with his face on the mud. Herr Cartman saw the dark haired child rush to his older brother. Then he heard a man's voice call out for Kyle. Herr Cartman turned his head to the source of the voice and recognized the bald middle aged man. It was Kyle's father. He stood on the left part of the track. In that moment, the fat Nazi understood the reason for the young Jew's despairing behavior. There was no time for thinking. He made a run to Kyle.

Herr Cartman knew this red haired boy was no ordinary Jew. He knew Kyle would never give up. So he ran as fast as he could. And while he ran, he watched Kyle swiftly get back to his feet, escaping from right under the tall soldier's legs. Kyle's little brother ran after him, but the soldier grabbed the child in midair, stopping him. Ike was thrown down on the floor and commanded not to move. Seeing a rifle pointed at him, he obeyed. Meanwhile, Kyle succeeded in returning to the pitch. But this time a large soldier grabbed him violently by his thin waist, hindering him completely from his goal. This was when Kyle was overcome by panic and shouted the words that caused complete chaos.

"Run! They're sending you to extermination camps! They're sending you to gas chambers! They call it the Final Solution! You are all gonna die! Run for your lives! RUN!"

Herr Cartman reached Kyle just seconds after the denunciation and hit him on his stomach. With a raw scream, the redhead fell on the mud and contorted from the pain. The fat Nazi needed to stop Kyle from endangering himself even more. Because panic had installed itself among the Jews. The Nazi cursed under his breath, realizing he had reached the Jew too late.

Other scared Jews started repeating Kyle's words. The suspicion that had lived as a mere whisper of fear in the camp became now tangible. This fear that has, for so long been brewing and waiting to be triggered, exploded among the Jews like a bomb. Men started running and screaming in all different directions. The ones selected to go to the extermination camps started fighting their way out, breaking the wired net in front of them and attacking the soldiers. It was all one great blur of chaos. Then there was the sound of a shot gun. A Jew laid on the floor under a pool of blood. The screams increased and panic grew among the prisoners. They were like ants running everywhere. The soldiers too panicked from the Jews' unpredictability and there were more shot guns.

"Stop with the shooting!" Herr Cartman ordered. But his voice was muffed by all the other voices. He bent over and grabbed Kyle by his hair, who was still curled in a ball from the pain. "Look what you did, you little shit!" He whispered furious. Kyle gagged a painful scream. He could not see the Nazi's face but recognized his voice. "Look! Fuckhole! Look what you have done!" He released Kyle's hair and the Jew finally managed to direct his gaze to the confusion. He stared shocked at the images of chaos, dead bodies and blood. Herr Cartman picked his own gun, pointed it to the sky and gave three shots, one after the other.

"Stop the God damn fucking shooting!" All soldiers froze at the chilling and powerful commando. Jews too hesitated with their running. Slowly they stopped and turned to stare at the monster of Dachau. The Nazi purposely put his foot on top of Kyle's back, pinning him down and keeping him immobile. Anything to make sure the redhead couldn't jeopardize himself anymore. "How dare you disrespect meh autoritah?!" The fat Nazi yelled. "There is no such thing as extermination camps! There is no such things as gas chambers! This Jewrat here…" He said while he stamped on Kyle's back, making the boy release a painful scream. "…is delusional. His mind got infected during his work as bodies' fetcher. He does not know of what he speaks of." Herr Cartman said with a scornful tone. "There are men not fit to work here anymore, so they are being sent to another labor camp, where work is lighter." There was a heavy silence and Herr Cartman knew he had things back under control. "Proceed with the selection. I don't want any more incidents, or I swear, I'll shoot you all down myself, one by one!" The Nazi furiously threatened and watched relieved as the Jews slowly retraced the invisible trajectory and continued the selection. Then he called out two soldiers. "As for this Jew…" He said while he kicked Kyle to the side. "Take him to the Dark Room. Nobody is to do visit or talk to him but me! I need to interrogate this little shit and get to the bottom of this." He secretly murmured to the two soldiers, making sure nobody else heard him.

Each tall and strong soldier nodded, grabbed Kyle by an arm and dragged him out of there. Herr Cartman watched him being taken away with a heavy heart. Kyle was now yelling pleas to save his father. Herr Cartman had hated to kick him, to hurt him. But he had to. Just like he had to send him to the Dark Room. This was the only way he could save him. Herr Cartman looked to the pitch. There were still Jews dispersed. He rushed in between them.

"Don't stand there doing nothing. Go back to your line!" He yelled while he pushed the Jews back to the right or to the left. "Back in line! Back in line!" He grabbed a middle aged man by the arm with force. The Jew stared surprised at him for two seconds, as the Nazi pulled him out from the left track to the right side. "What are you waiting for, fucking Jew? I said go back to _your_ line!" The Nazi furiously spat. The man only blinked once and quickly followed the men running on the right side. He received a new uniform and soon was running to a teary child standing behind the fences at the barrack area. He embraced the dark haired boy and looked back in the fat Nazi's direction. He was still pushing Jews from one side to the other. Controlling the damage. Restoring order. And somehow, Gerald Broflovski had the strange feeling, when Herr Cartman pulled him out from the left line, it had not been a mistake.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_If you never saw "Schindler's List", I highly recommend you to watch it (also the "Pianist" is a WWII great movie!). You'll understand where I got the inspiration for this chapter._**

**_The following 2 chapters are going to be pretty intense in a psycological/emotional way. I'll update soon ;)_**


	13. In the Dark Room

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Kyle desperately tried to free himself from the two Nazis.

He needed to go back to his father. He needed to save him. He needed to go back to his brother. He needed to take care of him. But his fight was a worthless one. He was small, weak and in pain, while the soldiers were large, robust and fit. Yet, he was too restless to stop. So he continued struggling, while he cursed vile words he didn't even know he knew. They approached a long low white building he never saw before and realized he had been dragged to an unknown part of the camp. Kyle started panicking, this time fearing for himself. There were only two things that could await him here. Torture and death. So he struggled even more, this time of fear, while he screamed. But it was all in vain.

The soldiers dragged him along a corridor made out of white walls, stopped in front of a door, opened it and threw him inside a small dark room. Kyle fell on his face and heard the door being locked behind him. He lifted his head and looked around. There was nothing but four ugly grey walls. Or at least he thought they were grey. Because the room was dark. The only source of light and air was a narrow breach, very high positioned, close to the ceiling. There was not one single piece of furniture. Nothing. Only walls. Kyle slowly got up, panting of fear. He was trapped. There was nothing he could do. Nothing but one thing.

The red haired boy threw himself at the door and hit it hard with his fists. It was made of metal and produced a hard sound at each bang. He hit again and again and again. It was dark. Too dark. In his mind's eye, he saw the long slow march of Jews to the gas chambers. His father's face was among them. He saw his brother alone in the camp, struggling to survive by himself. Alone and forgotten by the other Jews. He could see Herr Cartman's cruel grin. It grew wider at his suffering. And so fear and anger were mingled in a mix of turbulent emotions.

"Let me out! Let me out of here!" Kyle yelled while he hit the metal door harder and harder "Let me out! You fucking murderers!" He hit the door so hard and so many times, his skin broke and bled. But he was too deranged to feel the pain. "You have no right to kill! Monsters! Let me out!"

The more he hit the door, the more he became desperate, hopeless and hysterical. He couldn't stop himself. He was fueled by fear. It grew in his heart like a cancer. It darkened his thoughts, so his mind couldn't reason properly. The grey walls were closing in him. His family needed him, but he was trapped. All he felt was sheer despair, frustration, impotence. Kyle threw his body against the door. Once, twice, countless times. So many times, he collapsed exhausted, soaked in blood, tears and sweat. He released a horrible scream of agony. _I'm not getting out of here. They are not letting me out. _Kyle bitterly thought as he slowly crawled to the corner opposite the door and curled himself against it. The initial mix of anger and fear was now being replaced by crude terror. _Where am I? _He thought with tears running down his face. _What are they going to do to me? _Every second that passed, Kyle felt panic grow inside his chest like a burning fire. The grey walls were closing in him._ I have to get out of here…I have to get away. _The grey walls were closing in him. He stood up again and ran back to the door.

"Let me out! Please let me out! Please! I'm begging you! Let me out!" Feeling claustrophobic, Kyle lost his grip completely.

He had no idea how long he was inside this small dark room. It could have been minutes but felt already like an eternity. Each plea he screamed became louder and more desperate. But the door never opened. Kyle was completely overpowered by horror, despair and panic. All the years of pressure built up inside of him came out in the form of horrible painful screams and uncontrollable sobbing. Since the first timid signs of discrimination, to the implementation of wearing the David star. Since all growing restrictions and banishment from society, to the Cristal night. Since his long hiding years in a cramp attic, to the arrival in Dachau and its degrading daily lifestyle. All of it was coming out in horrifying anguished screams. It was all pain. A pain coming from the depths of his soul. He hit and cried and begged and screamed against the metal door, until he let himself slide down on the floor and lay on it weeping miserably, feeling completely lost and alone in this dark world.

…

Kyle opened his eyes. He had dozed off after his hysterical attack. He stared wearily at the metal door. It was still closed. Just like the room was still dark. He got up with some difficultly, his whole body sore and stumbled to a corner of the room. He sat with his knees to his chin and wept silently. He had no idea what time it was. The little light that entered through the small breach indicated it was day. But he could not tell if it was still morning or already afternoon. He sniffed miserably, his eyes were fixed on the blackness in front of him. It matched the darkness that lived inside his heart.

"Why?" He whispered softly to the darkness, to the emptiness. "What have I done wrong? God?" Kyle searched the small light in hope he somehow could catch a glimpse of God's presence in the room. "Can you even hear me? Can you even see me? God?" He closed his burning eyes and let the salty tears run freely down his cheeks. "I still believe in You. We all do. We all follow Your guidance. So why don't You protect us? Do You not you care about us?" He paused almost expectantly, but nothing. There was no voice that answered his questions. No sign that his calling had been heard. "Have we not always been faithful to You? Have we not always followed Your teachings? Your laws? Why do you always consent others in torturing us? Do you enjoy making our lives difficult?" The redhead sighed as there was no answer. "You always allowed us to be persecuted! To lose our lands to enemies, to live as slaves among worshipers of false gods! But we still continued believing in You. We continued having faith in You. Even when You let the Temple be destroyed*! Even when the Catholics burned us to death**! Even now, when You let Nazis torture and exterminate us!" Kyle shut his eyes tightly and let the tears flow freely, sobbing sadly. "Are You not satisfied with us? GOD? Don't you care about us? Because You just let the Nazis get away with their atrocities! And instead of being punished, they are awarded with rich magnificent lives! While we…Your people…Those who remain always faithful to You…We end up in camps and gas chambers!" He yelled revolted, staring into the darkness. His heart desperately hoped for a sign, but nothing happened. Nothing changed. "Why do you let all this happen to us?" He asked this time more to himself. "Unless…You don't exist." Kyle whispered, hot tears stinging his eyes, his voice cracked by his own discovery "You never existed. Y-You were invented. We invented You! Because we needed to believe that a higher power would care for us. We invented You so we could feel loved and protected, even in the most desperate times. Nothing but sweet lies. And now… now we stand alone. All alone."

Kyle closed his eyes and shed his last tears. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled in a small ball against the corner. He felt cold and tired, he felt sad and deceived, he felt forgotten, abandoned, alone. So alone. He finally allowed exhaustion take hold of his body and fell asleep in a godless silent dark world.

…

Herr Cartman paced hastily in the direction of the prison. It had taken a while but he had succeeded in stabilizing things during the selection. He had remained present till the end, his always vigilant eyes making sure no other Jew would do anything foolish. There had been few causalities. Fewer Jews had been shot to death than he had first thought. He still could not believe in Kyle's actions. He who was so rational and had learned all needed surviving skills in the camp. But then, the Nazi knew he shouldn't be that surprised. He already knew the red haired Jew's family was his weakness. His ruin. And he knew the boy had an uncharacteristic fire burning inside of him. He had seen it before in his fearless eyes. He had learned this during their passionate moments together. But today he had witnessed a different kind of fire. One of rage mingled with fear. A terribly dangerous kind of fire that blinded the Jew's mind completely and drove him into madness.

But there was one thing that bothered Herr Cartman even more. How in hell did Kyle come to know about the Final Solution? The Nazi had his suspicions, of course, but needed to be sure this was not something originated among the prisoners in the camp. Not something that could evolve like an infection and contaminate the Jews, leading to a revolt. So, after controlling the selection on the female sector, in which, fortunately there were no incidents; the fat Nazi headed to the building with the isolation cells, better known as "Dark Rooms".

Now and then, Herr Cartman would send a Jew for interrogation or for misbehaving to the Dark Rooms. There was no real period of time stipulated for the penance. It could stretch from hours to days or even weeks. It actually all depended of the prisoners' mental state. It depended of how mentally strong they were. The more resilient they proved to be, the longer they stayed in the Dark Room. Isolated, abandoned, forgotten and despised. Haunted by their own fears. Losing complete track of time. And sometimes losing complete track of reality.

…

Kyle didn't hear the metal door open. He did not see the large shadow produced by the new light hovering over him. He did not sense the danger. For Kyle had completely succumbed to exhaustion and had fallen into a deep slumber. Herr Cartman watched him. The light from outside illuminated the unconscious Jew. It was a deplorable sight. The boy laid curled on the barren floor, his face and clothing were partially under dried mud. The Nazi looked better at the sleeping boy and could see the lines tears had traced on the dirty skin. He could see the dry blood on his pale hands. He slowly turned to a soldier and murmured something, not wanting to wake up the Jew. Soon, he was handed a large bucket filled with cold water. He was going to hate himself for what he was about to do, but had no other options. He took a few steps closer, breathed deep and threw the water on the Jew.

Kyle woke up with a startle and jumped with a scream. He stared with widened eyes at his surroundings, not understanding where he was, what was this large figure standing in front of him, and why he was dripping. Then he suddenly he remembered. The selection, his father, the dark room. Suddenly he recognized Herr Cartman. And suddenly, he realized the door was open. Without thinking, he tried to make a run to the door and escape this hell, but the fat Nazi had been faster than him. He grabbed him by his arms and for the first time, Kyle felt how strong Herr Cartman's grip was. Still, he tried to struggle. And this was his mistake, for the Nazi threw him hard against the wall. Kyle fell in pain and knew this was just the beginning.

"Stand up!" Herr Cartman demanded. Kyle lifted himself, while he felt his body already tremble of pain, fear and anger. "Look at me." Kyle didn't lift his head. He didn't want to look to his nemesis face. To his lover's face. "Look at me you God damned Jew!" Nothing. Herr Cartman bit his under lip and slapped Kyle right across the face. The Jew stumbled shocked with the force of that blow and had to balance himself not to fall. "Now, look at me." Even with his cheek glowing, Kyle refused to obey and Herr Cartman cursed internally for the Jew's stubbornness. Another slap came. And another one. Kyle could taste the blood in his mouth now and somehow managed to smile at the irony. The more it hurt, the stronger he felt. "Look at me, you little fucker." Herr Cartman ordered in his threatening low voice. Kyle knew he was pushing the Nazi to the limits of his patience. So again, he refused to look. The Nazi shook his head, unable to believe this Jew's stupidity and slapped him over and over until Kyle finally lost his balance and fell on the cold ground. "I'll make you regret ever disobeying me!" Kyle released a painful scream as the Nazi's boot hit his stomach. He kicked him hard another few times until Kyle begged him to stop. "What was that?" Herr Cartman asked, feeling sicker by the minute.

"Please…Stop…" Kyle plead, while he raised his hand in a sign of defeat.

"Get back on your feet." The Nazi ordered. But Kyle didn't move, this time from the pain. "NOW!" Herr Cartman's command echoed in the room and Kyle, fearing his rage, supported himself on his shaky arms and painfully stoop up. "Look at me." This time Kyle obeyed. It was the first time they actually looked in each other eyes after their passionate moments together. And there it was. The hatred. But never any fear. Herr Cartman almost sighed of relieve. The Jew hadn't been broken yet. Green eyes stared back defiantly and Herr Cartman knew he had to hurt him. He had to try and break him. Because that was what a Nazi did to a Jew. So he grabbed Kyle by his neck and pinned him against the wall. Kyle's eyes widened of surprise and for moments, some of the concealed fear surfaced. Just for some moments. "What stupidity has possessed your mind! Three selections, Jew! In less than a year I have surveyed three selections. And never did anything like this happen before!" He locked his gaze on the Jew's, the rage glinting in his darkened brown eyes. "Luckily, I was there to stop, otherwise it should have been a massacre out there!" A soft but increasingly mad chilling laughter left Kyle's lips and the Nazi looked shocked at the redhead. He released him and took a step back, truly worried the red haired boy had lost his sanity.

"A massacre! Oh, please. I would have caused a massacre!" Kyle said in a mocking tone. "You mean to tell me, what expects them in Poland is not a massacre?" Herr Cartman stared warily at the Jew. He knew too much. There was only one way he could have acquired this kind of information.

"What do you know about the Final Solution?" The Nazi asked and Kyle seemed to have returned to his senses, for he hesitated and chose for silence. "Shit Kalh! I'll kick you into a pulp of blood if you don't tell me how you got this information!" The red haired Jew gave him a defiant look, daring him. Herr Cartman understood he was using the wrong method. This Jew was too tough. He was resilient. But he had a weakness. He cared too much. "Or should I fetch your little brother and force you to watch him being beaten the crap out of him?" He caught Kyle completely out of guard and saw horror sweep over his face, fear fill his eyes in a manner that was completely new to the Nazi. Herr Cartman smirked. He knew he had cornered the Jew.

"Leave Ike out of this!"

"Ike, so that's how he is called. Not a very clever boy, is he? Well, at least not really wise in denouncing his own brother, the other day. So innocent, still. It would be a shame…"

"Do not dare to lay a finger on him!" Kyle cut the Nazi's words with his revolted scream.

"Or else what? What will you do? Hit me? Kill me? I dare you." Herr Cartman viciously said, feeling sickened by the way he was savoring the power he had, now that the little Jew was wavering under his domination. He could see hurt in the redhead's eyes. Kyle sighed. He knew there was nothing he could do against the fat Nazi.

"I overheard you and that other guy. I was sleeping, but could hear everything you were saying." Kyle confessed in a soft whisper, his head bent down in embarrassed defeat. Herr Cartman swallowed dry. This was the answer he feared for.

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything. About Sobibór, the extermination camps, the gas showers, the Final Solution." Herr Cartman brought his hand to his mouth and his fingers slid to his chin in a sign of concern.

"You know too much." He finally dryly stated.

There was a heavy silence. The Nazi knew what he had to do. He knew what was written in the manuals for this kind of situations. Death. Kill the miserable Jew on the spot. Put a bullet in his head. His hand went to the gun and touched its cold surface. His mind told him he had to kill him. But there was a voice that told him if he would do it, he would never be able to live with himself. He looked at Kyle. He had his head down, his eyes closed, tears silently slipping out of them. Kyle was aware that death awaited him. Because he knew too much.

"Look at me." Herr Cartman whispered. His voice was gentle and deprived of any kind of anger, despise or mockery. So Kyle looked up. His eyes were watery, filled with hurt and sorrow. He didn't even hide he was crying. What was the difference anyway? Herr Cartman allowed himself to drown a few seconds in that forest green. "The Final Solution doesn't exist. It's all a creation of your delusional mind. You never heard anything, because you never heard me talking with Craig. You see, you never were in my house, understand?" He whispered and Kyle stared at him surprised. The Nazi turned his back to him, facing the door. "You'll remain in this cell for disturbing the natural course of the selection!" He said in a loud voice making sure the other Nazis outside would hear him. Herr Cartman left the room without adding another word and the door was closed behind him. Kyle stared with his mouth agape, unable to believe what had just happened. Herr Cartman, the monster of Dachau, the Nazi that most hated Jews, had just saved his life.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_* The Temple of Solomon was destroyed by the Romans in the 1__st__ century AD, when Jews rebelled against them, wanting freedom and not being part of the Roman Empire. Its walls still exist and they appear often in the news, showing Jews banging their heads against it, according to the tradition. _**

**_**__This is a reference to the Spanish and Portuguese inquisition in the 16__th__ century in Europe. Thousands of Jews were burned at the stake by the Catholics, who believed their souls were being purified and freed from evil._**

**_(An interesting book about the Jewish religious history (it's an historical romance) is "The Source" from James Mitchener. It's rather old (60s) but really well-written!)_**

**_Kyle is in a concentration/labor camp, meaning that it's a prison. Its purpose is to keep people captive, thus not mass extermination. Like in regular prisons, these kind of camps had a separate building holding a number of cells. These were the isolation cells, nicknamed as the "dark rooms". Prisoners were put in a cell for several hours or days, depending in the "crime" they committed. This is always the most extreme measure of punishment for prisoners. One can achieve power and control over another one through fear and oppression._**


	14. Broken inside

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

Kyle lost track of time.

He counted the days in the beginning, when he still took the trouble of discerning the alternations between light and darkness around the small breach. But he quickly gave up. He simply didn't see the sense of doing it anymore. He didn't see the purpose of keeping track of time in a place where time didn't even exist. In a place where night was all that was.

Sometimes he received food. Kyle ate, not so much because he longed to survive, but because his hungry belly hurt so badly. Sometimes he walked. No so much because he needed the distraction, but because his whole body started aching from being too long in the same position. The floor and walls were cold and hard, so his muscles and bones were quickly sore.

Sometimes he sung or talked alone. Listening to his own voice gave the weak illusion of company and it helped him feel less lonely. Because he needed to break the unsupportable silence. Sometimes he laughed. The strange sound would fill the four walls when he saw the irony and absurdity of reality. Being born only to die. Fighting always to lose. Resisting always to fail. Hoping always to despair. And as he laughed, he could sense he was becoming just a little bit mad.

Sometimes he screamed of anger and frustration. He scolded loudly to an imaginary Herr Cartman. "You saved my life. So what?!" Kyle would yell at the ghost of the fat Nazi. "Did you get me out of this dark cell? Did you give me anything to make my life a little bit easier? Did you help my family? Did you ever do anything to help me, anyway?!" Kyle shouted while he gesticulated his arms wildly in the air. The hazy figure of Herr Cartman would stare back at him blankly never giving him an answer.

Kyle had been first grateful for Herr Cartman's choice in keeping him alive. Now he regretted it immensely. Because he was now sure that being alive in this continuous dark, cold and filthy room was much worse than being dead. Kyle knew he was slowly losing it. He knew he was becoming more depressed day by day. It was like if any happy thought he ever had was swallowed up by the darkness around him. Like if things that once had given him hope had never existed. He felt like he was embracing darkness and merging with it. He could feel himself feed from grief, desire misery, long for gloom.

He banned God from his life. He lost his father. Ike and his mother could as well be dead, he wouldn't even know. He would never see Stan again. He would never see light again. He would never breathe fresh air again. Breathe the scent of wet grass after the rain. He would never know freedom again, what it was to feel safe, what it felt to be happy. Because, after living for an undetermined time in that dark room, Kyle had lost all hope for ever coming out of it again.

But one day the door opened.

Kyle sat on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He didn't even bother to move. He didn't even bother to look at the person entering the room. He already knew who it was.

"Stand up, Jew. You are free to leave." Herr Cartman coldly spoke, white he stood opposite Kyle. He had decided 6 days was enough penitence for the crime the Jew had committed. Long enough not to raise any suspicions from his fellow Nazi's. At least they didn't seem to judge his choice of torture above death. The fat Nazi furrowed his brow confused at the prisoner's non-reaction. "Don't you want to get out of this forsaken room?"

"What's the sense?" Kyle asked with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why even bother?"

"You make life too difficult for yourself." The fat Nazi said coolly, a hint of disapproval and annoyance present in his voice.

He took a better look at the boy sitting on the floor. This Jew was nothing like the boy he once met at the work field. He looked even less like the boy that once played the violin at his home. He was different. Something had changed. Kyle looked more like a defeated wild animal. One that had fought so strongly and so tiredly for a long time, endlessly. But it had no more energy left to fight back. Kyle was like the tall tree that, for many years, tirelessly resisted the violence of the strong river currents. Until it finally became too weak to hold on any longer and simply broke. "Why don't you go with the flow just like the others?" Herr Cartman sincerely asked. He stared shocked when a bitter mad laughter filled the dark space. The Nazi was silenced. He was too shocked, too horrified with the unfamiliar sound. With the amount of insanity in it. Slowly, Kyle's laughter died out. The he paused and sighed deeply.

"Go with the flow?" Kyle murmured with a bitter amused grin.

He stood up and, for the very first time, dared to look into the Nazi's eyes at free will. A daring action that deserved a bullet in the head. Herr Cartman swallowed dry wondering if that was what Kyle wanted. Because this time his darkened eyes were dull. There lived a scary abysmal void in them. The green orbs were deprived, as usual, of fear but also of hatred, determination and strength. They were empty from the things he was used to see in them. Empty and weary of any kind of emotion. Herr Cartman realized resentfully that all he ever did was try to break Kyle. And now that the redhead was finally broken, he found no kind of satisfaction in it. "Let me tell you what happened when I went with the flow, Herr Cartman."

Kyle spoke with venom, his voice shaky, his eyes watering, hurt filling them completely. "It led me to hard unbearable work. It led me to dead bodies... It led me to a passionate night I wished had never happened!" He regretfully confessed, his voice tainted by hurt and the Nazi wished he could free himself from that powerful accusing gaze. "Why go with the flow anyway? It only delays the inevitable." Kyle took a step back creating some space between them. "This whole place is one big waiting room!" He raised his voice and stretched his arms, making the point. "A waiting room for death! Because if I don't die here, I will be sent to some camp in Poland and be gassed to death!" Kyle's last words echoed in the dark room and Herr Cartman was glad he had come in the evening and having already sent the remaining sentinels to rest. "It's a really sick plan, Herr Cartman. As sick as this strange idea of a superior race…" He cut his own words and fought back a sob. It was painful. All what he said was painful. Because it was all true.

He turned to face the mute Nazi and gave him a disgusted look. "Tell me, Herr Cartman…" Kyle whispered, his eyes glued on the SS's. "How come the organs inside your body work the same way as mine? How come if you cut yourself, blood will spill out as red as mine? Tell me, will your superior race prevent you from dying?" Kyle asked revolted, while tears simply fell freely from his eyes. He gave up hiding his emotions. He gave up fighting. He gave up pretending not to feel. And all this was revealed by his pained watery eyes. And all this took the air from the Nazi's lungs. All this made the SS's heartbeat stop, the blood in his veins freeze. All this made his soul crack and bleed. But unlike Kyle, Herr Cartman hid it and pretended he didn't feel anything. Kyle looked at him frustrated. Hurt, disappointed, revolted. Because he felt he was crumbling disgracefully in front of a massive unclimbable mountain.

"You are not different than me, Herr Cartman! We are both humans! We are the same! Because when it comes to death you will rotten as much as I will. As anybody else! Because death is equal to everybody!" Kyle screamed as a strange pain pierced his heart. He screamed in the faint hope his words would somehow reach the Nazi's heart. Would somehow make him feel even the faintest hint of the pain he was suffering. But there was no reaction. So he gave up and slowly let himself slip down with his back against the wall until he sat on the floor. Kyle felt absolutely defeated. "All ever I wanted was to have a normal happy life. And you Nazis took it away." Kyle whispered sadly and allowed the sobs to come out freely. He put his hands in front of his face and cried miserably, slowly bending forwards and curling into a ball.

Herr Cartman stood in the same spot since he entered the room. He wore the same cold expression since he came in. He was motionless. He was wordless. It was seldom when Herr Cartman didn't know what to do or say, but so rare was this moment. The Nazi stared regretfully at the weeping Jew. This was what he had dreamed for so long. To see that fearless and strong minded redhead finally break down. To see this creature of an inferior race surrender in defeat. To savor his sad salty tears and the hurtful sound his sobs created. He dreamed about this day for so long and it should give him satisfaction. Instead, the dream transformed itself into a horrible nightmare. It was seldom when Herr Cartman felt bad for the consequences of his own actions. Seldom when somebody's feelings affected his own. But so rare was this moment. And so, Herr Cartman, the prodigy Nazi child, the monster of Dachau, stood helpless in front of a broken Jew. He couldn't do nothing but listen to the sorrowful weeping of this one boy who had become too tired to be strong. Too tired to fight back. And this all was too painful to witness.

Slowly, the tears dried off, the sobs subsided and the painful sadness diminished. Kyle became gradually quieter until he was completely silent. Herr Cartman almost sighed of relieve. He cleared his throat and the Jew was reminded of the Nazi's presence in the room. He had been so immersed in his own sorrow, he actually had forgotten he was not alone. And suddenly he realized he had wept in front of his nemesis. He had behaved in a humiliating manner. So he froze while he felt the blood burn his face. The Nazi had cleared his throat. Any moment now a commando would come. But nothing was said. Herr Cartman opened and closed his mouth several times, having no idea what to say. Kyle slowly lifted his eyes to see what was happening. And the Nazi caught the glimpse of green staring back at him. Kyle's eyes were puffed, red and tired. But also curious, expectant and, strangely, filled with a new life. Like if the weeping was needed to renew his forces.

"Your sentence for causing disorder during the selection has ended." Herr Cartman said with a stern and strong voice, which surprised himself. "You have remained long enough in the Dark Room. Follow me, Jew." This time Kyle obeyed and slowly got up. He stared warily from the door back to the Nazi, not truly believing he was being allowed to leave his cell. "Come on! I don't have all day!" Herr Cartman gestured to the door and the red haired boy again obeyed.

Kyle followed Herr Cartman along the white walls of the building's corridor. There was nobody else to be seen. No words were switched so the only sound to be heard in the lonely building were the heavy steps of the Nazi and the sloppy ones of the Jew. They stepped outside and Kyle was greeted by darkness again. But this time, it was a darkness he was familiar with. He smiled involuntarily when he saw the shiny stars against a black background and a crescent moon hanging in the dark abode. They walked a long while in silence until the Jew could discern small lights in the barracks area. His heartbeat grew faster at the hope he would see his little brother again. They reached D34 barrack and Herr Cartman greeted the guard standing in front of it. He gave him a paper and Kyle was almost forcefully pushed inside the wooden construction. He glanced subtly in the fat Nazi's direction and Herr Cartman couldn't quite make out what this look meant. Hatred, gratitude, regret? He turned his back and walked away. Away of those haunting eyes.

…

Everybody grew silent the moment the young Jew entered the common room. Most of them from pure surprise, because they had deduced the boy had been killed days ago. Many shocked to see his paler face and darkened eye socks. Some felt compassion. Some stared with despise. Like if he was some contagious disease that would infect them.

"You're back!" A dark haired child happily chirped when Kyle entered the common room and jumped to hug him. Kyle laughed genuinely happy and held his brother tight.

"Kyle?" The red haired boy lifted his eyes wide with surprise and unbelief. That voice. It could not be. It was simply impossible. But then, there he stood, Gerald Broflovski, his father. In flesh and bone, alive, safe and sound.

"Dad?" Kyle asked with tears in the corner of his eyes. His heart wanted to burst from crude joy. "Dad, how?" Kyle murmured confused, a wondering smile on his lips, his green eyes glinting from the jubilant emotion. But Mr. Broflovski didn't answer. Instead he gently cupped his son's face, smiled and kissed him tenderly in both cheeks. He carefully put his arms around his son's back, like if he was afraid of breaking him and Kyle started laughing and crying at the same time. "I thought you were dead!" He managed to say between his sobs.

"I thought I had lost you too, my boy. My dear precious son." His father said, pressing his check against the red curls. "I thought that horrible Nazi had killed you." Kyle's eyes shot open at his father's confession and suddenly realized. Herr Cartman. Had it all been a play? Had the Nazi for some strange reason saved both their lives?

"I-I was imprisoned…But dad, how did you escape?" Kyle asked, looking even paler than he already was. His heart was beating in a furious pace, a strange tingling spreading through his body. His father's eyes searched the faces in the room and then he looked gravely at his son.

"You look tired, Kyle. Come. You too Ike." He said and Kyle instantly knew his father wanted to talk in a more private place. Even though the dormitory was shared by all men from D34, it was the most private place they could find. Gerald Broflovski gestured his sons to lay down. Ike wrapped his arms around his brother's body and Kyle smiled, having forgotten how great it felt to feel this kind of warmth, this amount of unconditional love. His father sat on the bed's side and leaned a bit over, so he could whisper small secrets. "After you were taken, Herr Cartman entered the pitch to reorganize the divided groups. In the middle of the confusion, he pulled me out of the line I was in and pushed into the other one… I'm not sure, Kyle. But I'm almost certain it was a purposed mistake, if you know what I mean."

"H-He…saved you?" Kyle's voice was almost inaudible, filled with shock.

"Just like he saved you." His father said with a knowing look. "Mind telling me why?" Kyle felt all the blood leave his face and then rush back to it immediately. The steamy erotic images of his intimate moments with the Nazi instantly popped in his mind. He hoped his father didn't notice the fire on his cheeks. Just like he hoped he didn't notice his nervousness.

"I wouldn't know." Kyle lied and his words tasted like ash in his mouth.

"Of course not." His father said after a second of hesitation and Kyle swallowed dry. Mr. Broflovski knew his son had lied. And Kyle swallowed dryly knowing, sooner or later, his father would confront him and force the truth out of him. Kyle knew his dad this well. "You must be tired. Tomorrow will be another day of hard work. Better get some sleep now." Gerald Broflovski said while he caressed his boys' hair and planted a kiss on their foreheads.

Kyle closed his eyes and smiled wearily. Maybe there was a God after all. Maybe He had listened to his pleas. Maybe Herr Cartman was not such a monster after all. Maybe there was a human being living under that cold gaze. And maybe, just maybe, what happened that night had been a little bit more than just a physical thing.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_Broken Inside is a song from the band Broken Iris_**


	15. A shared secret

_**Note: **__In the first part of the chapter "Bold Itallic" is the present time, what is happening in this moment. Only "Itallic"are the thoughts._

* * *

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

_**I run as fast as I can. **_

_And while I do, past memories flash quickly in my mind. They take me back to the day the monster of Dachau came to our work field section. I will never forget the moment I saw the violin. I would recognize it anywhere. Kyle's violin. Clean, intact and looking new. And this horrible Nazi was holding it like if it was some kind of treasure. He asked for its owner. And then I told him it was Kyle's._

_I cried that evening. Because dad had been furious and had scolded me, accusing me of endangering Kyle. I know he didn't mean to make me cry, because I know he was dead scared about Kyle. Just like I was when I didn't see him return that evening. I don't know why or how…Call it sixth sense if you want. I somehow knew Herr Cartman did not wish to hurt the violinist he searched for. I somehow had the feeling he questioned the violin's owner, not because he wanted to punish that person, but because he actually needed somebody to play it. Otherwise, why would he be so careful while handling the violin?_

_I slept badly that night. Alone and cold. I missed Kyle's protective arm around me, his soft breathing behind my ear, the warmth his skin emanated. I slept badly, scared for my brother's safety. But then again, something told me he was all right. That he was okay._

_**I run as fast as my legs allow me.**_

_**I have very little time.**_

_That morning Kyle hadn't returned yet. Dad did not utter a word. He didn't tell me off anymore. He didn't look angry anymore. He was pale, his eyes nervous and I regretted by the minute for having denounced my brother. But then Kyle returned at lunch. He was okay, alive and unharmed. He laughed when he saw me, but later on he cried. Not because he had been hurt, but because he had had a great time. Strange how good things can hurt more than bad things. _

_Later that evening I apologized him for putting him in trouble. Kyle said the same sort of things as dad had said. Things like being unwise and dangerous. He told me to never repeat such a thing. He made me promise I would never do such a thing._

_**But right now I'm breaking that promise.**_

_**I'm doing the unwise and dangerous thing.**_

_**But I know it's the right thing to do. **_

_**The only thing to do.**_

_Kyle told me about that night. We laid together on the bed and he murmured in my ears how wonderful it had felt to be immersed in warm water with perfumed foam. He reminded me of how wonderful bread with butter tasted. He told me which compositions he played and I kind of remember most of them. He told me about a kind boy with a broken finger, another boy curious and enthusiastic about his music and a lovely girl that loved to know about his past. He told me in the end, he was glad I had told the truth to Herr Cartman, because even if it had been risky, even if he cried afterwards because it hurt losing your old life for a second time, it had been all worth-while. The wrong action proved to be the right one. __The reason I know this is a risk I have to take._

_**So I keep on running.**_

_**As fast as the wind, jumping between the trenches, hidden from any soldier's eyes.**_

_**And I praise God for being so short.**_

_Then suddenly the episode of the selection displays in front of my eyes. I still can hear Kyle's horrified screams. The way he fought to reach father, even after being hit by a guard. How I watched him being dragged away, struggling and cursing to get free. I remember thinking I was going to lose my brother and father at the same day. Then Herr Cartman stomped in the middle of the naked men and, for some miraculous reason, he ripped dad from the bad line. We had been both surprised with the monster's mistake. And realized, the evening Kyle returned, it had not really been a mistake. Kyle looked awful. He was even paler and thinner than before. His eyes sockets were deep and dark. But he was not hurt. And he was smiling happily at me. He laughed when he hugged me and dad. _

_Herr Cartman had saved Kyle and dad. I don't know why. I know my father doesn't know it either. I overheard him asking Kyle what truly happened that night he was away. I heard him pressuring Kyle to answer. But all my brother said was that nothing more happened than he had already told. Dad had called him a liar. And I know how Kyle hates being called as such. I know how much he hates lies and liars. But I had to agree with dad. It was obvious he was hiding something from us. He had a secret. One he shared with Herr Cartman. And whatever this secret was, if it saved him once, it could save him twice._

_**Finally!**_

_**I can see the distinctive large figure of the most terrifying Nazi of Dachau, far away.**_

_After his return, Kyle went to work again with me and dad at the stone grove. A new bodies' fetcher had been already appointed to replace him during his six days of absence. Apparently it made no difference if it was Kyle or somebody else doing it. I was glad! Because Kyle was with us now, at all times. But Kyle hated it, because now he could not see mom again. And he worries a lot about mom. She probably thinks he's dead now. _

_**My chest hurts, my lungs burn, my throat is dry and my legs are heavy. **_

_**But I never stop running. **_

_**Not until I reach him.**_

_It's funny how things can change dramatically. Herr Cartman never picked on Kyle ever again after his imprisonment. Just like Kyle complains less about the Nazi. They tolerate each other now. I would swear sometimes they even switch brief glances. Like if they are communicating wordlessly. I think it's just my imagination. But I'm also so sure it has to do with the secret they share. It had to do with whatever happened that night Kyle was away. I might be young, but I'm not stupid. Because something had to happen to change these two enemies' behavior so radically. _

_**I reached him! I hide myself in a trench just below Herr Cartman. I'm panting wildly, my heart is about to explode and I can feel the sweat drops slide down my head. But I'm happy, because I succeeded in reaching him. I make a psssst sound and wait expectantly. He turns around. First I see surprise. Then shock. He recognized me. And suddenly I see fear in his face. He knows I bring bad news.**_

"_**Please help him." I say in a low voice. "Kyle is dying!" **_

_**Herr Cartman becomes instantly pale. **_

_**And I wonder what happened that night. I wonder what their secret is. I wonder what happened for the monster of Dachau to suddenly care so much about a Jew.**_

…

Never in his life had Herr Cartman ran as fast as he did in that hot afternoon. He followed the dark haired child, who guided him between the trenches. The fat Nazi was shocked to realize they travelled invisible through the shortcuts the boy led him in. He didn't even know these paths existed in the camp. The kid proved to be smart enough to choose wisely the paths that avoided other Nazis. Nobody saw them. And this bothered Herr Cartman.

_I seriously have to check on this later. Before I know there will be Jews escaping from the camp through these paths_. The fat Nazi thought to himself. But right now, he had something much more important in his mind. That damn red haired Jewrat that he simply couldn't get out of his head.

They finally ran down a small hill and Herr Cartman's heart sunk. His eyes recognized the red color in the middle of the dark ground. Kyle was lying on the foot of the hill, motionless, clearly unconscious. He came closer and saw a very sick Kyle. His eyes were half open, his face as white as a sheet and he was breading heavily.

"What's the matter with him?" Herr Cartman asked worriedly. He placed the back of his hand on Kyle's forehead and realized he was burning.

"Kyle got really sick after last week's storm." Ike answered, his eyes scared and pleading.

Ike's memories returned to that critical afternoon. The temperatures of the past weeks had been unusually hot, even for the month of July. Folk called it a heat wave. Every day the sun shined mercilessly bright and hot. It dried out everything, the ground was barren, hard and starting to show cracks everywhere. Despite the great heat, the heavy work was carried out, even during the hottest hours. Many prisoners died. They collapsed from the heat, from dehydration, from the heavy labor. The Nazi's mocked the Jews, as they sat on comfortable chairs, under umbrellas, bare chested and drinking plenty of water.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a strong wind started blowing. It became stronger and colder by the minute. The Nazi's umbrellas were ripped away and everybody was startled by the sudden wind's force. The Jews continued working, but were mystified by the strange wind. They welcomed it for cooling down the hot air. Suddenly a Nazi shouted something and pointed at the sky, far away. Everybody stopped with what they were doing. Jews and Nazi's stared perplexed at the strange sky that moved in their direction.

Most people gasped terrified. A great mass of thick dark clouds moved in their direction. They brought with them fierce winds, now icy and powerful. The Nazi's quickly dressed their shirts and coats, while the Jews wrapped their arms around their bodies. Ike and Kyle heard their father shout something to them, but they couldn't make out his words. He was just a few meters away, but the howling wind muffed his voice, just like it did all other sounds.

Ike never had such a vision in his life. The enormous mass of black clouds was brought by the cold wind, making them travel fast and swift in their direction. Soon the dark clouds covered the sky above them completely, so day became night. Everybody was silenced. All men stared petrified at the strange threatening sky. Ike was scared and grabbed himself to Kyle seeking protection. Kyle wrapped his arms around his little brother while looking up at the sky.

A great white light flashed across the sky and was shortly followed by the frightening roar of thunder. A thick icy drop fell on Kyle's face. And then another one fell, and another and another. Before they knew, it was pouring with rain. The water fell hard and cold and soon everybody was soaked. There was a moment Ike thought it strange this water hurt his skin. He felt Kyle shift to cover better his body and Ike realized the water had transformed itself in small icy grains. He watched horrified as hail covered the dried soil, which became in a surprisingly fast tempo, increasingly white. There was more flash and lighting. The thunder was so hard it felt like the sky was going to fall down on them. Even though, Ike's body was partially covered by Kyle's, he still could feel the lashing pain on his skin. He was terrified and screamed of fear. But his scream was mute, as the wind, thunder and hail created a tremendous noise. Hail turned back into water. It was still icy, but at least it didn't hurt anymore.

The angry storm only lasted minutes, but it felt like an eternity. And then, as quickly as it came, the strong winds and harsh rain stopped. The thunder died out and the dark clouds dissipated. The world became still and quiet again. The wind weakened until it became nothing but a chilly breeze. The dark clouds made way for the sun so its rays stretched out from behind a thin curtain. It happened so suddenly, it was as if the storm had never happened. The only remains of its presence were the wet ground and the cold air. The unbearable heat was gone, the temperature had decreased drastically.

That night Ike woke up from his brother's coughing.

"Go lay with dad." Kyle had said "I don't want to you to catch my cold."

Ike had thought Kyle was exaggerating. He discarded the cold, believing it was nothing serious. Still, he obeyed his older brother. The following days, Kyle worked like everybody else. But, like many other Jews, his cough got worse day by day. Gerald Broflovski had tried to smuggle in some medicine, for Kyle became increasingly weaker and sicker. He had witnessed the few last days, sickened Jews like his son, collapse and never stand up again. Pneumonia, some said. But this time, luck was against him. Mr. Broflovski was caught and punished with 20 lashes on his back. Soon, Kyle had the fever. He became restless in his sleep, crying and moaning from strange images and dreams his mind produced.

Even thought, the horrible heat had died out, it was still hot. It became a more arduous task to work feeling weakened, thirsty and dizzy under the merciless sun. Both Ike and his father were surprised with Kyle's endurance. He continued working without a word of complaint for another three long extenuating days. But by the fourth day, Kyle was struggling to stand on his weakened legs. He breathed with difficulty, his lungs demanding more air. The fevers that came and went, made the world spin. He kept on going with the hard work, until his mind was too worn out to even remember why he was moving. The world spun faster, the air was stolen from his lungs, his limbs became jelly. Kyle collapsed still half conscious, all his unfocussed eyes saw were black dots quickly multiplying, until everything became plain black

Mr. Broflovski and Ike stared terrified and feared the worse. Ike was the first one to react. He ran quickly to his brother, while his father looked nervously in the Nazis' direction. They hadn't noticed the child's violation. With a pounding heart, Gerald Broflovski broke the stones, while he watched Ike push Kyle's body down the hill and run after him altogether. And prayed for God to have mercy in both his sons' souls.

Ike ran down the small hill until he was at the foot of it. Kyle laid unconscious. His eyes were closed, but his was breathing. He positioned Kyle with his back to the ground and watched his chest rise and fall faster than normal. Kyle looked so pale. The child placed his hand on his brother's forehead and knew the fever was high. He needed to do something. Kyle didn't have much time. Without any medical care, he was doomed to die right there, at the bottom of this small hill. Ike needed to think fast. And then he knew what needed to be done. There was only one person that could save his brother. And so he ran and ran until he found him.

Ike was now staring anxiously at Herr Cartman. The Nazi had just felt his brother's temperature, stared at him for moments thoughtfully and sighed. He turned to face the child.

"Do you know how to get to the forest without being noticed?" Herr Cartman finally asked.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_The storm was inspired on a real happening, the sudden storm this summer at a beach in Russia, they even put short films on You Tube. _**

**_This is of course one of the many increasingly extreme storms our planet has been suffering the last decade. Whether is our fault or it's a natural phase from the planet, it's a fact nobody can deny. Climate is truly changing. Extremely and rapidly._**


	16. Conflicted

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

* * *

_I must be crazy. _

_I'm risking everything! My reputation, my career, my life! _

_And what for? _

_For a fucking filthy Jew!_

These were the thoughts that haunted Herr Cartamn's mind while he carried an unconscious feverish Jew on his back. He was horrified by the notion he was, firstly, being guided by a mere child; secondly and worse, by a Jew through invisible paths between the trenches of _his_ camp. It was humiliating, it was confusing, it was absolutely surreal. But there he was. Herr Cartman, the child prodigy Nazi that wrote an 80 paged essay about all the different reasons the Jewish race should be destroyed. Herr Cartman, the Nazi that despised and loathed Jews above anything else in the world. Yes, this very same Herr Cartman, was now rescuing a Jew himself. And why? He didn't even know why. He couldn't think about one single reason to save this Jew's life. All he knew was he had to keep this damned cursed red haired kike alive. No matter what the consequences were.

Herr Cartman panted heavily. He puffed while running after the agile child, struggling to keep up with Ike's speed. Kyle was quite a light load, that wasn't the problem. It was all the running under a hot sun that was killing him. He didn't like sport as much as sport didn't like him. His whole body ached. His legs muscles burned, his chest felt like it was about to explode and his mouth tasted metallic. All this running around wasn't good for him. It made him sweat and burn calories, something that was unknown to his fat physique.

A sensation of relieve travelled through his body when he saw the edge of the forest. They ran into it and Herr Cartman welcomed the cool shades of the tall trees. He stopped when he was sure they were well hidden in the woods. Herr Cartman carefully placed Kyle on the cool ground, while he inhaled and exhaled deeply bending over, his large hands resting on his tights. Ike crouched so he could look better at Kyle. He felt his temperature and looked at the exhausted Nazi worriedly. Herr Cartman saw the look in the boy's eyes and too checked the redhead's temperature.

"Your brother is burning. He'll have to be put in a tub with cold water." He casually said, ignoring the tears that threatened to spill from the child's dark eyes. "Okay kid. You cannot go further than this. I know how to move from here without being seen." He picked up Kyle again and threw the boy over his shoulder. "During the rollcall, answer for him. Do this until you are instructed otherwise." The Nazi said. There was some paperwork he had to deal to explain the Jew's absence. He would have to figure out some new function for him to justify a transference, should he survive this illness. "Come on, go away now, before you are missed!" Herr Cartman yelled in his characteristic manner, making the child flinch of fear.

Ike gave one last heartbroken look at his unconscious brother, turned around and hurried back to the work fields. The boy told himself Kyle would be fine. But once he reached the edge of the forest, Ike suddenly stopped. He remained a while planted between the tall trees hesitating. His heart was heavy. He was divided. He struggled with the dilemma of secretly following the Nazi or returning to the camp. As much as he wished doing the former, he ended up doing the latter and obeying Herr Cartman. There was nothing else he could do for his brother. He uttered a prayer to God and hoped fate would be kind to Kyle. Ike ran back to the working fields, as invisible and unnoticed as he had moved before. When he arrived, his father looked expectantly at him, worry all written over his face. Ike nodded, indicating all was well with his brother. He would have one hell of a story to tell to his father. He only wished he wouldn't be scolded again for delivering Kyle a second time to the fat Nazi.

…

"Hello children…" A strong built dark man's deep voice greeted Herr Cartman, as he entered the kitchen through the back door. The man had his back to the Nazi and he was cutting some vegetables. He did not need to turn around to know it was his employer, for he was used to Herr Cartmans' sudden intrusions in his kitchen. But this time there was something different. There was a loud and heavy panting the cook wasn't used to hear. So he turned around. "Eric Cartman, what the hell are you doing?!" The cook asked shocked when he saw the unconscious body of a boy in prisoner's clothing hanging over the Nazi's shoulder.

"Shhhhhhhhh!" Herr Cartman urgently said with his index in front of his lips. He was afraid somebody would hear the cook's loud voice. "This Jewboy…uh…Ay! He's the musician from the last soiree! He's sick with whatever illness… and I need to keep him alive so he can play again in the next soiree!" The Nazi hastily said. The dark man stared at him clearly shocked, perplexed, mystified and above all, confused. This Jew had to possess a great musical talent otherwise, there was something very off with the SS. There was one thing, though, he knew for sure. This was a dangerous action.

"Oh Eric, what you are doing is really, really risky." He worriedly pointed out, finding the whole concept quite odd and uncharacteristic for Herr Cartman.

"Not riskier than keeping your black ass safe in my kitchen, Chef!" Herr Cartman angrily replied. "Now, help me bring him to northern guestroom. I don't want any of the other staff to see him."

Chef quickly obeyed his boss, left the cooking and took the load off Herr Cartman's back. The Nazi led the way, always checking first if the coast was clear and then gestured the cook to follow him. Chef rushed after the fat Nazi with Kyle on his arms, making the boy look smaller and frailer than he already was. They climbed up the stairs and reached the smallest and coolest guestroom unnoticed. Chef watched Herr Cartman hurry to the small private bathroom and fill the bathtub with cold water.

"Chef, the Jew." Herr Cartman said in an urgent voice and the dark man hurried to carefully deposit the boy in the cold water, clothes and all.

The moment Kyle's body sunk in the water and the chilly temperature painfully collided with his feverish skin, a horrible agonizing scream filled the bathroom. Kyle regained consciousness immediately and was now struggling in getting out of the bathtub. He had no idea where he was, what was happening and what force kept him from standing up, making him slip and drown in the freezing water. All he knew, all he perceived was this horrible feeling of thousands of knifes stinging his body. It hurt bad. It hurt like hell.

"Ahhh! Argh! What's going on? Help!" Kyle screamed panicked, pushing dark strong arms away, fighting them helplessly.

"Calm down! God damnit, Kalh! You need to calm down!" Herr Cartman yelled as he too clenched his fat fingers around Kyle's small shoulders, helping Chef keeping him down.

Kyle blinked several times. His burning eyes were blurred from fever and tears. He stared confused at the soft yellow tiles that covered the wall in front of him. His vision focused and unfocused several times. He could feel two pairs of strong hands pressing his body and keeping him down. Only then did he realize he was submersed. His sluggish mind finally managed to understand he was lying in a bathtub, but he couldn't understand where and why. Somewhere in the mist of his blurred thoughts, Kyle knew he wasn't supposed to be here, but somewhere else, doing something different, but he couldn't remember where and what.

His burning eyes distinguished two unfocussed faces. One looked oddly familiar, just like its voice, which seemed to want to comfort him, but instead only scared him the more. The other face was pitch dark, strange and scary. Kyle could feel the dizziness quickly shut off his mind, the coldness invade his too hot body, the pain spread under each cell of his skin. Green eyes momentarily locked on brown ones and for just a moment Kyle felt absolutely safe and terrified at the same time. And then his eyelids gave up and closed, so his world became dark. He could hear his name being called out, over and over again, but it faded in the distance until he heard nothing else than silence.

…

Kyle could hear low voices nearby. They were whispers. He couldn't discern what the whispers were saying, but somehow he knew they were talking about him. He felt exhausted. His body felt heavy and numb. But he felt comfortable. Soft, warm and fresh at the same time. His mind struggled to put its thoughts together and try to figure out where he was. He joggled his memory back to the arduous heavy work at the grove. Breaking stones, picking stones, breaking stones, picking stones. Under a hot sun. An unbearable hot sun. He remembered being sick. He remembered his breathless lungs stung, his throat was a dry desert, his limbs felt like jelly. He remembered thinking he could not bear it anymore. He remembered giving up. He remembered accepting death with a smile.

Kyle forced his eyes to open. They became less heavy, but burned so badly. Softly, his eyes opened and blinked several times. The world was a blur and the whispers died out. After a short while, his vision focused and he took a deep breath. Green eyes met a white ceiling with a dark brown lamp hanging on it. He sensed some movement from his right side and slowly turned his head. Kyle's eyes widened slightly as he recognized the faces of Herr Cartman and his butler Alfred. He opened his mouth but no sound came from it. He had no idea what to say.

"Here, drink some water." Alfred, who immediately stood up, said while he helped Kyle sit up and gave him a glass of cold water, which Kyle drunk voraciously. He was terribly thirsty and soon a second glass of water was going down his throat. The butler gently helped him lay back on the bed and smiled worriedly at the boy. Kyle had a sickening pale skin, his lips were white, his eye sockets were deep and dark. The redhead lay down with a sigh, grateful for the soft pillow and matrass under him. "Should I get him something to eat?" Alfred asked and Herr Cartman nodded silently. Soon the man left the room, the sound of his footsteps climbing down the stairs distancing, until silence filled the room.

"W-What happened?" Kyle finally asked in a weak and hoarse voice. He slowly turned his head to the Nazi, who remained seated and looked apprehensive.

"Your brother. He brought you to me…Well, actually it was the other way around." The fat Nazi mumbled the last part, while he rubbed his forehead. He sighed deeply and looked tired. "You were unconscious for one day and a half." Kyle's eyes widened in shock. "You had…uh…high fevers. Doctor said you have a pneumonia, or something of the kind." Herr Cartman said and grew more and more uncomfortable at the shocked and confused look Kyle was giving him. Why was Alfred taking so long with the damn food?!

"W-Why?" Kyle finally verbalized the one and only question that filled his mind right now. The fat Nazi lifted his head and looked lost for some moments. He has asked that same question himself over and over again, but still had no answer. He had no idea why. Or perhaps he had, but could not accept it. Would not accept the truth. He frowned upset.

"The only reason you are here, Jewrat, is because of my friends!" He angrily spat, his voice coming louder and harsher than he had expected. Kyle flinched and looked still shocked and confused, but also terrified and something else Herr Cartman couldn't recognize. "They _loved_ you! Especially that whore of Bebe!" _And that son-of-a-bitch Craig, from whom I'm still waiting for his fucking answer_! But he omitted that part. He stood up and walked to Kyle's bed, rested his heavy hands on the edge of the matrass and bended slightly over the red haired boy, so they're eyes were locked. Kyle instinctively pressed his back against the matrass and swallowed dryly. "You see Jew…" Herr Cartman's voice was soft this time, a mere whisper, but he sounded now even more threatening than before. "…my asshole friends have important daddies. I have to keep them happy, so my goals remain in my reach. That's where you fit in, Jew. You stay alive, so you can entertain them during their visits and keep them happy. As long as they are happy, so am I. And as long as I am happy, your miserable family lives. Understood?"

Kyle nodded, looking even paler than before, if that was even possible. Herr Cartman read the terror in the Jew's eyes. He wondered if the redhead was too tired to conceal his emotions, or because he had just punched right in the Jew's weak spot. His family. The fat Nazi smirked maliciously. He took a step back and soon he was sitting down on his chair again. A heavy tension filled the room as silence installed itself again. But fortunately, the sound of footsteps heading to the room were heard and soon Alfred walked inside, holding a tray with a bowl of warm soup. He didn't notice the tension between the two teenagers and thought Kyle's paleness had worsened due to lack of energy, thus food. Again he helped the boy sit up and had to feed him, since Kyle's hands shook too intensely, making the spoon's contents spill back on the bowl. He ate more than he could, less than he wanted and, afterwards, lay down feeling completely exhausted.

"You're going to be just fine. The worst is already behind." Alfred said in an almost fatherly manner. "We thought you weren't going to make it, but boy, do you have life strength inside of you." Kyle smiled tiredly but sincerely at the compliment. He missed the way Herr Cartman awkwardly turned to the window and slightly fidgeted with his buttons.

"Thank you, Alfred." The Nazi spoke the words the butler knew meant his services in the room weren't required anymore and he left after politely bowing his head.

The room was filled with silence again. Herr Cartman dwelled in the words spoken by Alfred. Yes. This Jew had a unique will-power, an endless inner-strength, great surviving instincts. He knew it were these characteristics that made him consider this particular Jew interesting. Absolutely fascinating. And yet, he failed to understand how. If Kyle was a Jew, if he belonged to the weakest and filthiest race of all, how could he possess qualities that should be only reserved to the Aryan race?

He turned to face the redhead, the object of his musings and disturbing questionings. He turned to face the most peaceful and angelic sight he had ever seen. Kyle was asleep. Red curls gently resting on his creamy skin, painted by hundreds of tiny and almost invisible freckles. His face was sweet, his frame small and frail. And Herr Cartman wondered, how was it possible such a beautiful creature to be considered inferior?

The fat Nazi sat back on his chair, his brown eyes never leaving the Jew. He was distressed. He was confused. He was full of questions and doubts. For the first time in his life, the way of the world he believed to be perfect and ideal felt like one big mistake. And so he cursed and loathed this Jew for who he was. For being so amazingly stubborn, for being so irritatingly gorgeous. For making him want to save his life over and over again. For making him go against all rules and violate his own ideals. This Jew entered in his life, he shook it up and turned his world upside down.

And for this, Herr Cartman loathed him.


	17. Particularly troubled

_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

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Recovery was long and slow.

Kyle had been sick before, but this was extreme. Long months of lack of food had narrowed his physical resistance and immunity to about zero. During the first week, Kyle's fever was a continuous coming and going. Although it never reached its peak like the day Ike called Herr Cartman for help; the high temperatures did made him restless. He had all kinds of strange dreams, which he forgot right after waking up. Dreams that made him scream and cry moans of distress. During his fevers, Kyle would lose complete notion of reality. He ceased to recognize the world surrounding him and everything became a confusing blur of nothing and everything. Past and present merged. Dreams and reality merged. He was a child again and then he was back being a teenager. He was at school with Stan and he was happy. And then he was back in the camp, in the snow, between stones and dead bodies. While his mind was shut down, his body desperately fought against the infirmity that was consuming it. The reason why, although Kyle slept a lot, he always woke up tired and weak.

After the first exhausting week, his feeble body finally triumphed over the bitter fever. Gradually Kyle started feeling a bit better every day. He slept now easily and dreamless. His appetite returned with force. He had the company of Alfred, who would check on him several times a day, and of Chef, the kind cook that brought him the daily meals. Kyle discovered this was the second person he had discerned during the bathtub episode, when Chef retold him the events of that day.

Kyle's body became fitter by the day, but now his mind was plagued by thoughts concerning Herr Cartman. He simply could not understand why he was lying in a comfortable bed and receiving all the needs for his recovery in the Nazi' home. He still had a hard time believing this was truly happening and he had already some bruises in his arm to prove his attempts to wake up from this bizarre dream.

_Why did he save me?_

_Why didn't he harm my brother for violating several rules, that day?_

_He brought me hidden. He is still hiding me. Because it's forbidden for a Nazi to help a Jew._

_All this just to satisfy his friends?_

No. Kyle didn't believe Herr Cartman had taken all this trouble, taken so many risks, to the point of putting his career and life in danger because of his friends. He had already saved him and his father once, after all. No. Kyle was too clever to believe in such nonsense (and he had the strong feeling the fat Nazi was aware of this). It had to do with something else. It had to do with whatever existed between them, which escalated in that one very hot night. Kyle had tried to blame it in the circumstances. He had tried to convince himself it was the influence of opium and whisky that had made him act reckless. But he knew better. Kyle was too clever for his own good. Drugs and alcohol were not to blame his attraction to the Nazi that one night. All they did was stimulate his bodily (and most probably emotional) urges.

Since the day the redhead woke up in a soft bed, the Nazi never showed up again. Although Kyle preferred it this way, he couldn't help and feel annoyed with Herr Cartman. He had too many questions in the open. Questions that only the SS could answer. He needed to know what was going on. Why the Nazi loved torturing him so much, why he showed nothing but hatred and disgust in the work fields to afterwards have great sex. Even thought it had been a complete new experience for him, Kyle knew there had to be something more than just fantastic sex. There had been something more than physical in the way Herr Cartman had touched him, had moved in him, had looked at him. Something that was strong enough to make him take the trouble in saving his father, having mercy on his brother and sparing his life, not once, but twice. Something strong enough to make him go against the Führer, the law, his career, his beliefs. And so, the hours Kyle was awake and alone, were spent in wondering what was going on the Nazi's head. Above all, the redhead scolded himself for being upset by the SS's absence.

_So he doesn't show up! Great deal! Why even care? _

_I should be relieved that asshole never appears to make my life hell!_

Kyle tried to tell himself he was better off without the Nazi's presence. But he knew better. He was a clever boy after all. Kyle did care for whatever reason Herr Cartman chose not to show up. It somehow stirred up his emotions and he found himself unwillingly wondering why the fucking Nazi never came by and said something. Even if that something was rude and cruel. As long as he gave him some attention. Kyle hated himself for caring. For wanting attention from the monster of Dachau. Any kind of attention. And he wondered if he was a masochist.

_What does he want from me anyway? Is it all just a sick game? _

_What does Herr Cartman truly think about me? Fell about me?_

_How ridiculous! Like if he is capable of feeling anything!_

But Kyle knew the fat Nazi had to feel something for him. Good or bad. Because he had seen it in his eyes during their heated moments together. Because Herr Cartman had proven it in the risky decisions he took, even if he camouflaged them with cruelty and torture. And so Kyle hated this internal conflict. His mind told him the SS could not have any kind of feelings for him. Just like his mind told him he could care less. His mind told him he loathed the cruel Nazi and that this was the only feeling that existed between them. Yet his heart taunted him with the facts. There were so many moments the Nazi could have simply killed him instead of sparing his life. But Herr Cartman always chose to keep him alive. He always found a way to save his life. And his family's.

_No! He doesn't care for me! It's all part of his sick game! _

_He wants to see me suffer. He enjoys watching me suffer. That's why he keeps me alive. That's what he's doing right now. He knows that, by not showing up, I'm all worked up!_

…_But then, why spare dad? Why spare Ike?_

_No! He would never do anything for me! Never!_

Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His brains were hurting as bad as his chest. It was a struggle between mind and heart. Sense and emotion. All he could think was him. His thoughts twirled around the cursed Nazi. And he hated it. He hated himself for being so stupid. Kyle felt unwilling tears escape and hid himself under the sheets. He cursed that hot night. He cursed the wonderful pleasure he felt back then. He cursed the impossible connection they reached during climax. He cursed everything that made him want to be with Herr Cartman. To see him. To receive attention. Any kind of attention. He cursed the day he crossed paths with Herr Cartman. He cursed the day the fat Nazi entered in his life unintentionally.

…

Chef was one of few people who knew the Nazi's real persona. One the few privileged that knew Eric Theodore Cartman. He knew him better than anybody else, better than Herr Cartman's own mother, because Chef had seen him growing up. They had met for the first time, many years ago, when little Eric Cartman frequented the Elementary School where Chef worked as a cook. Due to his open, warm and friendly personality, Chef easily gained the trust of many kids. But Eric Cartman was perhaps the only child that trusted him to the point of confiding him with his deepest and darkest thoughts, ideas, fears and questionings. Chef knew, in the contrary of what the rest of the world thought, that Eric Cartman was a particularly troubled kid with a particularly difficult childhood.

Chef knew the child suffered because he was fatherless. It had been a constant emptiness in Eric's life. An emptiness that only was compensated by envying insanely those who had a father. He hated children that went fishing with their dads on Sunday's afternoons. He loathed little boys that had a father to cheer them at football matches. Fathers who took their free time to do fun things with their boys.

The fact his mother was most of his childhood absent, whether away with some stranger for a cheap fuck, whether immersed in opium; only made matters much worse. Lianne Cartman was truly a negligent mother. She adored her little pumpkins, make no mistake. But instead of giving Eric what he truly wanted, what he truly needed, things like love, care, attention, guidance and safety; she overcompensated her lack with gifts, food and freedom. Because, in the end, Lianne was never there. All Eric needed was a mother that cared enough to make sure her son wouldn't freeze himself so he could "sleep" into the future to get some weird toy; or to stop her son from creating some kind of apocalyptical sect of Ginger heads after some kid pranked him by dying his hair red.

Chef was sure that Eric Cartman's mental condition suffered drastically, firstly in the day he discovered his mom was actually _his father _(a rare case of Hermaphrodite), and secondly when he discovered this was actually _a lie _and his father was somebody he had already killed to take revenge on some kid that had fooled him with hairs, or something of the kind. By this time, Eric had already developed quite a strong fascination for Adolf Hitler. But after learning the truth about his father, Eric's obsession for the Führer only grew stronger and more intense by the day, until he became the worst kind of Nazi. The fanatic type. The one that will follow the Führer blindly. Devotedly and without any questioning. Eric Cartman had found his father figure in the Nation's great Leader.

Chef also knew little Eric Cartman hated being fat, which made him feel absolutely unattractive, repulsive and insecure about himself. So he overcompensated his complex by entitling himself as "awesome" and ripping everybody that crossed paths with him. In the beginning he only ripped on kids that were labeled as weak, like his friend Butters, or as freaks like the ginger heads. Later on, his ripping was focused mainly on the Jewish race, an unhealthy hatred nurtured by the Führer himself.

Eric Cartman had always sough contact with Chef, even after he left Elementary School and went to the Hitlerjugend School. The teenager knew the dark man's door was always open for him 24/7. Eric had nurtured a great respect for the cook in his selfish heart and was forever grateful for the undivided attention he received during many years. And it was this very gratitude that saved Chef the previous year.

The kind cook had lost his job, his house and savings due to the Nazi regime and new laws. Just like the Jews, he was considered of an inferior race, his skin color considered strange and impure. And so he ended up living in subhuman conditions of misery and poverty. His survival was selling his body to women and singing love songs in nightclubs. And it was in one of these nightclubs that Eric, by then already known as Herr Cartman, the SS-officer of Dachau's camp; offered Chef a job in his private kitchens. The reason Chef knew that, despite of what the rest of the world thought, said and claimed; Eric Cartman did have a heart. Just like any other human being he had feelings like gratitude, love and compassion. This conviction was now being strengthened by the fact Herr Cartman had saved a Jew and was having him in his house.

Chef had been away the night Herr Cartman organized one of his crazy soirees and had, therefore missed Kyle's presence back then. Later on, he interrogated Alfred about the Jew Herr Cartman brought that August afternoon. And so he learned the boy had played the violin wonderfully that evening. Alfred also hinted that Herr Cartman had enjoyed the boy's company very much. Since the day Kyle was brought in, Chef witnessed the fat Nazi's disturbing mood swings. He was restless and crankier than normal. Anything was enough reason to infuriate him. All the house's staff and fellow officers were tormented by his extreme ill mood. Only Chef and Alfred knew the reason for his irrational anger. Herr Cartman was worried sick with the young Jew's fate. He often sat by the boy's bed and stared at him silently. The moment the redhead woke up and started his slow recovery, Herr Cartman returned to his normal self, actually, he acted more cheerful and sometimes he was even singing softly while walking around in the house. He, of course, pretended he didn't care for the Jew and never visited him again (although he did ask Chef and Alfred how Kyle was doing).

Finally, both Chef and Alfred knew it was no coincidence that Herr Cartman's bookkeeper was fired two weeks after Kyle woke up from his illness. It had been quite the spectacle. A fellow SS guard came one evening looking quite breathless and exasperated. He told Herr Cartman it was urgent and that he needed to accompany him to the warehouse. When they arrived in the building, another two soldiers (looking quite disgusted and shocked) were guarding its entrance. As soon as Herr Cartman walked through the door, he started screaming and scolding furiously. Chef heard the fat Nazi's loud voice and stepped out of the kitchen curious about what was going on.

"Gross! God! Fucking gross!" The fat Nazi yelled infuriated. Chef came closer and heard another lower and begging voice, one that he was quite familiar with.

"Herr Cartman! I-I can explain!" Chef recognized the bookkeeper's voice.

"Explain what?! There is nothing to explain! You're a fucking faggot, dude!" Herr Cartman sounded sincerely repulsed and was beyond doubt insanely angered.

"Oh Jesus Christ" There was another male voice, one Chef did not recognized. He grew more curious by the minute and ventured to come closer. He noticed one of the soldiers was throwing up by a tree nearby while the other two looked absolutely appalled by whatever was going on inside the warehouse. They noticed the good cook but did nothing to stop him from peeking inside the building. Chef froze at the entrance. Inside, next to a pile of straw, stood two men trying ineffectively to hide their naked bodies. He recognized Mr. Garrison, the bookkeeper, with his bald head, unfriendly face and silly glasses. The other man was a stranger to him. He was strong built, dark haired and wore leather clothing, extremely tight and extremely revealing.

"Please, Herr Cartman. Please, do not harm us." Mr. Garrison meekly begged.

"What?! You fucking faggots! What do you think this is? The red light for gay retards?!" Herr Cartman screamed out of his mind. "Shit! Do you even realize how disgusting you both are?! I mean …Gross! Is this why _you_ hired an assistant for? To fuck your ass every day!" The fat Nazi yelled at Mr. Garrison, who shrunk shocked at the irate words.

"Oh Jesus Christ!" The stranger said, looking absolutely embarrassed, while the bookkeeper looked completely lost for words.

"Fuck off, you donkey-raping shit eater!" Herr Cartman scolded the stranger.

"Jesus Christ!" The stranger said clearly shocked.

"You know what this means, don't you?" The SS asked with his low threatening voice.

"No!" Mr. Garrison screamed desperate. He threw himself on his knees and tried to grab Herr Cartman's boots, but the Nazi instinctively took a step backwards, feeling disgusted, so the older man scratched the dirty ground with his fingers instead. "Please, don't send us to the camp! Please! I beg you! We never did any harm to anybody!"

"Shut up! Eat penguin shit, you ass-spelunker! You are a freak! An abomination! A disgrace for the Aryan blood! It's the camp you belong in!" The cruel Nazi sentenced the two homosexuals.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" The stranger moaned startled and sorrowful as the three (still disgusted) soldiers pointed their riffles at him and Mr. Garrison and escorted them outside, to the camp where their new hard life would start. Herr Cartman exited the warehouse, rubbing his thick fingers on his forehead. He only saw Chef when he lifted his head and discerned his large figure in the dark.

"Well, I guess I'll have to find myself a new bookkeeper" He said in an absentminded tone. They walked together back to the house. "That fuckhole! Now I have to send a letter to the main office asking for a new bookkeeper and wait an eternity before they'll send me candidates. And then the question is if they are even right for the job!" They walked silently and then Chef wondered out loud.

"Why don't you hire Kyle? Everybody knows Jews are good in accountability." The dark man offered. Herr Cartman looked at him and although his expression was one of surprise, his eyes glinted triumphantly.

"That's it! That's the most hella awesome idea ever!" Herr Cartman enthusiastically answered, sounding relieved with this solution. "I don't need to lose my time looking for some new dipshit and I get to rip on a Jew at any time!" He merrily said. He halted just in front of the entrance door and gave Chef an accomplice look. "Do you know what the best part is? I don't have to pay my bookkeeper anymore." His smile looked too innocent and he entered the house, leaving Chef standing at the doorstep with the most shocked face. He realized too late it all had been pre-thought. The kind cook had,unknowingly fallen into his boss' trap. He had said exactly what Herr Cartman had wanted him to say. Chef didn't know if he should laugh or be angry at his employer's master plan. Because he knew how Eric Cartman was. A young man with a troubled past, with sick ideologies and a disturbing collection of contradictions.

* * *

**_A/N_**

**_So, this is how our little fat brilliant's mind worked things out:_**

**_Mr. Garrison has been working in this house since the opening of Camp Dachau, for Herr Cartman's former SS-commander. Herr Cartman knew, of course, from day one, Mr. Garrison was gay (too obvious not to notice!). The Nazi Regime was against homosexuality and forbade it. But, and for Herr Cartman being the person he is, he never did anything against it. Instead he kept this piece of information aside to use it against the bookkeeper in an opportune moment, should it be needed. He was also perfectly aware that Mr. Slave's function had nothing to do with bookkeeping. This he too allowed, remaining silent for the same reason as above mentioned._**

**_When he brought Kyle to his house, he started plotting a way in using the two men's homosexuality against them, so they would be arrested for their crime and Kyle could fill 's place without raising any suspicions. All he needed, was the two men's secret to be discovered by somebody else. He followed closely the men's daily routine and discovered, every evening they headed to the warehouse. The sounds that came inside of the building confirmed what kind of activity was being performed in there._**

**_So, the day Kyle became strong enough to be detached from the bed, but too weak to return to the camp's arduous work (information he managed to get from Alfred and Chef) he emptied the bullet reserves from the soldier's casernes (during the afternoon training activities, acting like a coon) so a soldier had to get the items from the warehouse in the evening._**

**_The soldier caught Mr. Garrison stuck inside of 'Mr. Slave's ass and immediately ordered them to surrender, while he let out the alarm, so his colleagues would come and back him up. This was when one of the soldiers headed to Herr Cartman's condominium and called him. _**

**_All went perfectly according plan and Herr Cartman had all the motives and eye-witnesses to arrest the bookkeeper and his lover, in a way nobody could ever guess his involvement in it. All he needed now, was somebody to give him the brilliant idea of hiring a Jew to be his personal bookkeeper. The opportunity presented itself when Chef appeared outside, curious to know what the commotion was about. The fat Nazi knew, of course, exactly what he needed to say, because he knew exactly what Chef would answer._**

**_And so, this is how Kyle became Herr Cartman's new bookkeeper! _**


	18. The new bookkeeper

_**100 REVIEWS!**_

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**Congrats Cster you are the 100th reviewer! ;)**

**I want to thank EVERYBODY that has been following/favoriting this story and I want to give special thanks to ALL MY REVIEWERS! You are the source for my motivation and inspiration in writting more chapters/stories. I love reading your reactions and opinions on each chapter and have small chats with the fowarding of PM's. **

**And to celebrate the 100 reviews I'm posting this chapter sooner than I usualy do as a bonus. It's my gift to all my loyal readers, espeacilly those who reviewed.**

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_**For those who read the first version of this story, which original title was "Unexpected":**_

_**From this chapter on forward, you will notice more changes than before. There will be some omissions, many additions, a lot of adapting but mostly, the deepening of the psychological/emotional story between Cartman and Kyle. The storyline and plot remains unchangeable, though. Just richer.**_

_**Keep enjoying :)**_

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_**Warning:**__ AU –Second World War _

_M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex. _

_I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!_

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**SECOND PART – SECOND WORLD WAR – DACHAU - AUGUST - 1943**

Kyle sat in a room too small for the amount of books, archives and papers in it.

He sat at a crowded desk with a typing machine, an open large book, a pile of papers, two pencils, a pen and an inkpot. The red haired teenager coughed once in a while. Sometimes it was from the musty smell of old paper, sometimes because his lungs were still recovering from his illness. Kyle sighed while he turned a page from the heavy book he was reading. It contained the register of all the camp's expenses and incomes. He still could not believe where he had landed. Of all the scenarios he had pictured himself in, as far caught as they were, this was something he never had dreamed of. Yet, here he was. Breaking his brains in this chaotic world of paper, ink and numbers. Herr Cartman's new bookkeeper.

The memory of the day he woke up with Herr Cartman standing right next to his bed, silenced and staring blankly at him, was still fresh in his mind. It had been a horribly awkward moment, in which Kyle was truly creeped out by the fat Nazi. After staring at the redhead for an uncertain time, Herr Cartman announced Kyle's new function. In less than half an hour, the still weakened Jew was following the SS to the small room and receiving instructions for his new task. The crowed office was to become the place where he would spend most of his time from that day on.

Although life was now far more comfortable than in barrack D34, it was still hard and difficult. Only in a very different way. At night, Kyle would lay on an old matrass at the corner of the small office, thinking about his family. He missed the feeling of his younger brother's small body pressed against him. He missed his father's comforting voice. His mother's encouraging smile. Kyle missed his family terribly and was worried sick with their well-being.

After Herr Cartman had given him the instructions for his first day on the job and exited the office, Kyle desperately looked for the Obituary Register in the middle of the great chaos. Once he found the file, he turned its pages with shaky fingers and a pounding heart. He tracked back the dates before the week he became ill, all the way back to the day he was brought to the Dark Room. His greatest concern went to his mother and tears couldn't be avoided when he knew she must think of him as dead. His index traced the B section of every page and sighed relieved. Not one single Broflovski was written down. But every evening, when the daily Obituary List was delivered, the whole process would start all over again. His eyes would run over the names avidly and he would only breathe after not identifying his family's name on the paper. It was torture. And this uncertainty was killing him inside. The reason why Kyle tried to focus as much as possible in his work. He needed to distract his mind from his worries, keep it busy, otherwise he was sure he would go insane. However, soon he discovered, this new function had much more challenges than one would first suspect.

The former bookkeeper had made quite a mess of his work. The amount of paperwork was enough to drive anyone crazy. Nothing was properly catalogued. It was a sea of papers and bills and small notes that were spread indiscriminately in files, inside register books and drawers. Unable to work in this manner, Kyle started to reorganize and catalogue everything in alphabetical and chronological order. He was sure it would take him weeks, perhaps even months. But it needed to be done. And at least, when he was driving himself crazy, yelling and cursing from frustration every time he would find another misplaced file, bill or piece of information; he wasn't thinking about his family.

While the red haired boy concentrated all his efforts in bringing some order in this perfect world of chaos, he started finding bills that didn't quite fit the administrative records. He started to check the dates and written fees and quickly found out there was a lot of discordancy in the monthly finances records. Kyle discovered the balance of the camps expenses and incomes were filled with gaps and were inaccurate. Disturbingly inaccurate. The former bookkeeper had made quite a small fortune for himself during his years of service in Dachau camp.

One week and a half had passed by since Kyle had started working as bookkeeper and today he finally had enough evidence of the false values and fraudulent maneuvers. He decided he would present them to Herr Cartman this very evening. He took a deep breath and picked up the file from his desk. Herr Cartman was his second greatest concern. The redhead had thought that, buy working under the same roof as the fat Nazi, he would see him more often. He could not have been more mistaken. Just like the days he was recovering, the SS never showed up, so his already built up trepidations were now becoming paranoia. Each day Kyle woke up asking himself why he was here. Living the closest thing that can be called a normal live. Having the right to eat, wash, dress and sleep properly. Having all the basic needs for a dignifying life style and perhaps even more (because Alfred and Chef made sure he was very well taken care).

_Why? Why? Why? _

And the more the thought about it, the more he hated the Nazi. The more he dwelled on it, the more he needed to see and vomit all his questioning on the sadistic SS. Kyle never though Herr Cartman's absence could have this kind of impact on him. He knew he should be glad for the non-communication between them, but he wasn't. It only irritated him. Because there was so much he didn't understand and the fat Nazi was the one holding all the answers. But today, Herr Cartman would have to see him. He would want to see what the red haired Jew had to show him.

"Come in." Herr Cartman said in a bored tone when he heard a knock on his door.

He was reading a small book and didn't even shift his eyes from the letters when the door was opened and Kyle entered. It was only when the Jew made a sound like clearing his throat that the fat Nazi lifted his head. He had expected it to be the butler or some soldier, but never Kyle. So he watched surprised and silenced as the boy ventured to come a bit closer, pacing hesitantly in his direction. Herr Cartman immediately felt his heartbeat accelerate, his throat go dry and chills run down his spine. He had avoided to see the Jew by all costs all this time, because he knew, whatever sensations travelled through his body every time he saw this Jew; they weren't supposed to be there. But now, Kyle was standing right opposite his desk, looking more beautiful than he could ever remember. Less pale, less skinny, looking clean with lovely combed red hair and wearing a simple white shirt that looked absolutely dashing on him. His skin was flawless, a creamy shade under splattered freckles. His cheeks were faintly rosy, matching his wonderful lips. His green eyes looked determined and fearless. And they were on his.

"Ehm…can I help you?" Herr Cartman finally managed to say. He had succeeded to sound as nonchalant and indifferent as he wanted, but his rapid heartbeat and trembling hands betrayed him.

"Your former bookkeeper has been embezzling money from the camp." Kyle dryly stated. Herr Cartman stared at him confused for moments, forcing his mind to proceed the horrible words that beautiful voice had just muttered.

"W-What?"

"It's all in here." The Jew said while he handled over the file. "At least, what I have found up until now. He's been writing down fake values on the bills record book for several years." Herr Cartman stood up, opened the dossier and started reading the numbers. He paced slowly as he turned page after page, his eyes comparing 's handwriting and the real numbers in the original bills. After a short while he halted.

"Fucking asshole!" He suddenly screamed and Kyle flinched. "T-That fucking faggot! I can't believe he's been doing this right under my very nose!"

"Y-You couldn't know…" Herr Cartman's head shot at Kyle's direction, shocked at the boy's comment. Was he defending him? Comforting him? He noticed Kyle gulped dryly as he took a few steps in his direction. The Jew cautiously reached for the file and turned a few pages. He landed his index just above a date. "See? He's been doing this from the very first year."

"1933…The fuck?...That…That son-of-a-bitch! He is going to pay for this!" Herr Cartman yelled infuriated. "I'm going rip off his dick and make him eat it!" He viciously said while he closed the dossier with a hard clap. Kyle took his hand off just in time, staring shocked at the fat Nazi, not quite believing what he had just heard. "Stay here! Do not even think about leaving this room! I'll be right back." The Nazi dangerously said while he dropped the file on his desk. He exited his office, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

"That went well." The Jew muttered sarcastically to himself.

He looked at the desk and picked up the dossier. But while doing so, he noticed a paper laying under it. His eyes widened when he saw it was today's Obituary List. With a bouncing heart, he looked from the still closed door down to the paper. He picked up the List and his eyes quickly scanned the faceless names of the dead and sighed relieved afterwards. But he flinched when he heard the sound of the door being opened and quickly placed the List back in its place. He straightened and did everything to wipe the guilty look away from his face, praying he had been quick enough for Herr Cartman not to have seen what he was doing. Alas for him, the SS officer did see his last fast movement and slowly headed to the desk, eying the Jew suspiciously. He saw the paper and picked it up, while the Jew lost all the color of his face. Kyle watched Herr Cartman's lips draw a sick malicious grin. He lifted his cruel brown eyes and looked directly in the green wide ones.

"They are alive. But you already knew that." The fat Nazi whispered while his smirk became crooked and evil. He knew Kyle knew exactly to whom he was referring to. The redhead did everything to hide the fear that invaded his thoughts, already knowing he would fail. Because he knew Herr Cartman had discovered his weakness. Herr Cartman was very well aware that Kyle cared about his family's safety more than anything else. But the Jew wasn't just ready to surrender and preferred to act like nothing was going on.

"Shall I take the List with me so I can update the registry?" Kyle said in his most casual voice, concealing all his fears and terrors. But instead, Herr Cartman's smirk grew even larger.

"You know, I can determine their fate. I can decide to give them a harder or easier life." Herr Cartman said, savoring each syllable he uttered. He saw the green eyes lift to his with a hint of hesitation, his mind clearly already wondering what this was about. Wondering to what extent it was only a threat and wondering if some kind of proposal was going to emerge. There was a short pause, in which Kyle obviously was pondering what to say.

"So…If you wanted, you could help them?" Kyle asked coolly, hating himself for being so weak. He knew his words reflected his desperate hope and plead for help. Herr Cartman rested the paper back on the desk and looked at it thoughtfully.

"I could put them doing easier tasks, like working in the camp's kitchens. Of course, I would need a very good reason to such a thing. After all, what will I win by transferring them to a new function?" The fat Nazi said with a victorious chuckle, his eyes still fixed on the paper. There was a short heavy silence.

"Well, I discovered your former bookkeeper was stealing from you! I think that's a quite enough…" Kyle started, hoping this would be enough to persuade the fat Nazi, but Herr Cartman cut his words.

"Let me be clear about something, Jew." The fat Nazi nastily said while he locked his gaze on Kyle's and took a step forward. The red haired boy didn't move and inch, determined to stand his ground, much for Herr Cartman's delight. "It's your obligation to figure out that kind of shit, bookkeeper. Just like it's your obligation to play the violin when my friends come over. Actually, you have no choice in nothing, because you are a Jew under meh rule."

"Well, then I guess there is nothing I can do to _motivate_ you in helping them out, is there?" Kyle blurted bitter and upset, figuring out the cruel Nazi was as usual, playing with his mind, with his feelings. Just being his stupid arrogant and all-powerful self. But then Herr Cartman took another step closer and Kyle's heart started beating faster of alarm. He wasn't enjoying the fact the small distance between them was almost closed, but he refused to step back.

"Now, now. Don't go taking rushed conclusions. I'm sure we can find a good _motivation_ together for me to help your sweet family." Herr Cartman said while he brushed his thumb on the edge of Kyle's under lip. "I'm sure we can find an agreement." He whispered and grinned when felt the soft and silent gasp escape those tempting rosy lips. He could see Kyle's eyes anger, the iris grow dark in the forest green. Kyle had already figured out what he wanted. "You see, Jewboy, I can do whatever I want with you. I could already have had you at any time. I could have fucked you over and over when I wanted. But it would be rape. And I'm not really into that." His thumb traveled down to the chin and he lifted it ever so slightly, their eyes meeting closer. "No. I want you to do it willingly. Just like that other night. Otherwise it's no fun." Herr Cartman saw a flash of anger cross the green eyes. Kyle jerked his head away and took a step backwards, staring furiously at the fat Nazi.

"You want me to be your sex toy?!" Kyle yelled outraged, his stomach revolving at the thought.

"Well, if you put it this way…yes." Herr Cartman said and licked his lips slowly. "We'll have great sex anytime at any place, whenever I feel like." He watched amused as Kyle's mouth opened in a shocked muted "Oh" and stared at him completely flushed. He had cornered his little Jew and was enjoying every second of it.

"How will I even know you'll truly help my family if I agree with this…_proposition_?" Kyle angrily spat, knowing it was a lost call, but still desperately clinging to the idea that, perhaps, there was a way out of this situation.

"I know I can be a real dick, but I assure you, I am a man of my word." Herr Cartman solemnly purred while he caressed the Jew's skin from under his jawline to his neck with the back of his hand. Kyle felt a soft tremor under the skin from where the Nazi had just touched and all the blood raised to his face. "So, what's the dilemma?" Kyle shut his eyes tight, cursing his twisted fate. There was no dilemma. There had never been. Because they both knew there was only one answer the redhead could give from the very beginning.

"If I agree, you promise to protect my family?" Kyle dejectedly asked, for the other boy's great joy.

"I'll even put it on paper and make it official, if it makes you feel more at ease." Herr Cartman said.

"In that case I'll agree with your terms for keeping my family safe."


End file.
